Appearances Can Be Deceptive
by NextChristineDaae
Summary: Are people really who we perceive them to be? Is everything always what it seems? A competition. A potentially catastrophic occurrence imminent. Constance Hardbroom is powerless to stop it. Her life. Mildred's life. All their lives, will change forever...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's 'quick' Note**

It's always best to start at the beginning, and all you do is follow the Yellow Brick Road …

*breaks into #_Somewhere Over the Rainbow_# …*

Ack! Sorry, wrong story … *whistles*

Where was I? *clears throat*

I happened across this site by a complete fluke of nature … thus began …

*drum roll*

**Appearances Can Be Deceptive**

This is the first of two (hopefully very entertaining) stories, from which I have had so far IMMEASURABLE pleasure (and the odd moment/day/week/month of **complete nervous exhaustion**) writing the first one! The original characters – of course – are from the magnificent and magically wonderful world belonging to Ms Jill Murphy. (And technically the producers at Gala Films for the additional characters.)

My story essentially follows on from _The Worst Witch All at Sea _book and _The Millennium Bug _TV episode. The former was the last book of Ms Murphy's I read, now over a decade ago. The latter was part of the catalyst for my story, the content of which is set nearly a year later.

By using mostly the TV show as additional material, mainly from series one and two (but not particularly the third at this stage), I have somewhat twisted the various scenarios in them **very much** to my advantage. I have also kept Miss Bat for now (although Miss Crotchet was **extremely** funny in the #_Rock 'n' Roll Magic Chant_#). But come on, you just have to **love** Davina!

But ultimately, the remaining imaginary characters and the rest of the plot are MINE, ALL MINE!

*evil cackle*

The time period is the year 2001. The ages I have chosen for the characters I think are accurate, being as how the books state at the beginning there are, in fact, five years of schooling, which I take to mean starting at age twelve 'going on' thirteen to seventeen 'going on' eighteen, then whatever they choose after. (Not that the TV series' producers were kind enough to continue for another two years … *sobs*)

I also couldn't help but sneak in several elements of 'homage' to the books and TV show, not to mention its remarkably astounding actress, the **one **… the **only **… Ms Kate Duchêne!

**If I have encroached on anyone else's material, I apologise in advance. I have only read a handful of the hundreds of stories on here so far, since I've been such a busy bee writing my own (and the first eighty-five thousand words were written after reading only two – I was rather keen to get my own brewing epiphanies into play!). I specifically did not want to be influenced by anyone else's ideas, and I hope this is reflected in my work; my Worst Witch saga is now complete in my head – just a question of writing it all up and publishing it! **

**I have been as accurate as possible with the details to the best of my abilities, both with the story and the grammar. **

With regard to reviews, all are **very **welcome! *begs* Be them positive or negative (though if the latter, I suggest you include tissues), every single review means the world to me.

PS: I have checked it and checked it to the point of **insanity** and beyond – just **don't** ask! If any further mistakes are spotted, please provide cyanide when you point them out to me.

**PPS: My story may start off fairly light-hearted, but it becomes very deep and very dark. I feel a 16+ rating is necessary. It is, at times, very graphic in both medical and debatably torturous details in certain chapters, therefore, this is hereby my official warning. There is some profanity, but overall it is generally kept to suggestive matter except for the occasional full use of a 'heavy' swearword (which, I might add, was wholly necessary to the plot). I have added extra warnings above the more graphic chapters. Please note: I consider my story well within the guideline allowance for an M rating and would not publish otherwise.**

PPPS: I'll shut up now, I promise. Thank you so much for reading and especially for reviewing, and last but not least … *grins* ENJOY!

* * *

**PUBLISHED: 17****TH**** JANUARY 2009**

**WARNING: THIS STORY – NOW, AND IN ITS ENTIRETY – IS NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

Prologue

In the magical world and the mortal world exist both darkness and light. To reach the light, one has to journey through the dark.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

* * *

"WELL?"

The demanding voice of Constance Hardbroom shattered the silence in the staffroom of Cackle's Academy. She was standing bolt upright in the very centre, her tall, thin figure hugged neck to wrist to ankle by a ridiculously tight black satin dress. With her arms folded rigidly, the multitude of keys hanging from her matching satin chatelaine jangled noisily as she shook with anger, her eyes fixed at the entrance …

On hearing no apparent explanation from the figure before her, Constance continued in her vein, growing increasingly aggravated.

"WELL?"

Mildred Hubble was standing in the arched, stone-bordered doorway of the staffroom, quivering slightly. Miss Hardbroom had never looked more furious with her.

Constance's face was contorted with rage, and her sleek and shiny brunette hair was groomed so compactly into a generous plaited bun, it seemed to vastly emphasise her raised eyebrows.

"Mildred Hubble, you have been a pupil at this school for nearly three years now, yet you have the audacity to – to … I'll tell you this, my girl, if I ever, EVER catch you – or your fellow classmates – speculating about personal matters relating to a member of staff again, the consequences will be more severe than you can possibly imagine!"

"Y-y-yes, M-M-Miss H-Hardbroom," Mildred replied shakily, her teeth chattering as she trembled with fear, wringing her hands behind her back.

"You will write out **five hundred **lines – with **meticulous **neatness, '**I must under no circumstances ever assume, infer or enquire if my form mistress is suffering premenstrual tension**.' And for goodness' sake, **will** you tie your bootlaces!"

"I … I'm s-sorry, M-Miss Hardbroom. I d-didn't mean to … I really, really am very sorry."

Constance glared at her for a moment or two. Her expression dropped. She sighed and lowered her voice.

"You may go now, Mildred, and remember what I said."

Mildred turned and almost ran down the corridor.

_Oh, thank heavens it's soon the weekend! _Constance thought, shutting the heavy oak door with a flick of her wrist. She had had quite enough of the girls this week.

She crossed the room to the right-hand side end of the dark wooden table, topped with a cream fabric cloth. Pulling back the mustard-yellow curtain, she looked out of the ivy-enveloped, diamond-leaded window. She watched as Mildred hurried outside to her friends, both sets of laces trailing behind her feet.

Constance smiled to herself, feeling a tad guilty at her display of temper. As it happened, she probably was a little PMT, as it were, but honestly – _**that**__ girl!_

* * *

"Millie!" Maud Moonshine called out brightly, moving a few paces nearer towards her best friend. "How did it go?"

Mildred was chewing the end of one of her long, dark, middle-parted plaits. She sighed, pulling the hair from her mouth and tossing it behind her shoulder.

"Just awful. I mean, I know we probably shouldn't have been saying all that stuff in her earshot, but what did she expect after yelling at us three times to be quiet **after **we'd taken the Silencificating Potion! She wasn't supposed to be able to hear us – it was only meant to let us hear each other. And it isn't as though we were making **that** much racket clearing up! I wonder how much more she heard before she told us it hadn't worked properly?"

"Not all of it, I hope. Though I think she maybe had a headache – she did look very pale," Maud added, secretly thinking just how pale her teacher had looked earlier. More than a little peaky, that was for sure.

"Well, even so – you've got to admit – her face was an absolute picture!" Enid Nightshade interrupted the pair. She had just appeared, Ruby Cherrytree and Jadu Wali following. "But then she shouldn't have eavesdropped on our private conversation, given it was the end of the lesson, anyway. Serves her right for cancelling our free period and making us do potions all morning. You got the brunt of it, though …" Enid started giggling before she could stop herself. "**Especially **when she asked you to repeat it," she said, pulling a face to resemble the glare thrown at Mildred by their irate form mistress. "I would sure hate to be around her **during** PMT!"

The girls cracked out with laughter. In the background a shrill bell sounded, echoing around the cobbled concrete courtyard.

"Let's go get some lunch, guys, I'm starving!" Maud said in an exaggerated fashion. She pushed her large, round, finely gold-rimmed glasses further onto her nose as she marched towards the entrance, her blonde pigtails swinging as she led the way.

* * *

"It … um … seems, Constance, we may have a slight problem …"

Amelia Cackle looked up from the letter she was reading and turned in her chair towards Constance, who was standing painfully straight by the sizeable grey stone fireplace, her arms folded and face stern.

Miss Davina Bat was in her usual hideaway, having had a minor altercation a few minutes earlier with Constance, following her 'impertinent' question as to whether Constance would like some camomile tea to help her through her 'obvious time of the month'. She peeked her head out of the skilfully carved chestnut stationery cupboard and surveyed the room. Catching Constance's eyeline, Davina let out a tiny squeak and quickly pulled her head back in. They heard the key turn promptly in the recently added internal lock.

Within seconds, Miss Imogen Drill burst through the door and ran into the staffroom in a blur of blue and white.

"What on earth?" Constance practically shouted, jumping back a step as the tracksuited figure of her colleague flew past her.

"Headmistress!" Imogen shrieked, panting slightly and clutching her hand to her hip as she tried to regain her composure.

"Imogen, whatever **is** the matter?" Amelia asked snappily, sounding distinctly agitated. She tossed the letter in her hand onto the table before her and released a sigh.

"Er –" Imogen cleared her throat, taking a few deep breaths. "It … it seems we may have a little situation with a few of the third-years. Um … actually … I think maybe the entire school …"

"And what sort of 'situation', pray?" Constance enquired with a deepening growl.

"Well, it seems they have … um … been placing bets on as to how long Miss … er … Miss Hardbroom is going to be … um … out of sorts … so to speak … and … I'm afraid that a few of the girls have been tampering with some potions, and it appears that due to a disagreement between them, the perpetrators have exacted revenge with a … a SLEEPING DRAUGHT!"

Constance was gritting her teeth, her face rapidly turning from her usually milky complexion to dusky pink then crimson …

"I see. And tell me, Miss Drill," Constance continued with mounting displeasure, "**who** exactly are said perpetrators?"

"It appears to be Ethel, Drusilla, Mildred, Maud and Enid. At present … er … well, the entire room is unconscious. It seems the potion was administered into the orange juice."

"I see."

Imogen backed away a few feet from her colleague: Constance's fingers were now gripping the narrow mantelpiece of the fireplace, and the decorative plate resting against the sloped face of the pointed chimney breast was beginning to rock slightly with the incensed sparks of magic rebounding from her.

"With your permission, Headmistress?" Constance scowled, her voice irritated with increasing fury.

"Oh – er – yes, Constance … Please go and see to the necessary … erm …"

Constance looked at Amelia, somewhat baffled at her apparent lack of interest.

"Headmistress, are you quite all right?" the deputy head asked sharply, vaguely concerned.

Amelia sank back into her chair, removed her Sixties-style glasses, staring at the brassy-brown carved rims for a second, and rubbed her eyes. There was a grave look on her face.

"Davina, do you think you could come out of the stationery cupboard, please?" she requested.

Davina's head was visible in the left of the two large and elongated mottled-glass octagons in the tops of the doors. She was muttering to herself. The key turned slowly, the cupboard doors creaked open and Davina stepped out. She gave a fleeting glance at Constance and took her place at the table, rocking back in her prettily carved, yet cold, hard and rickety wooden chair against the rectangle oak panelling of the wall beneath the window, thus creating as wide a distance from Constance as possible. Constance remained upright, leaning slightly by the unlit fireplace. Imogen seated herself on the stiff chair by Constance's small wooden desk behind the door, after closing and locking it as a precaution to prevent any interruptions from any pupils not currently asleep.

"Well … it seems, ladies, that Cackle's have a … a … Ahem. We have been selected to compete in the … um … The Witchcraft and Wizardry Supreme Challenge …"

The three women looked at each other, then at Amelia.

"WHAT?" Constance's explosive reaction broke immediately into the momentary pause in Amelia's speech.

"Well, you see –" Amelia cleared her throat before continuing, knowing her deputy was going to have plenty more to say on the subject before she had finished. "It appears His Honour the Chief Wizard had decided to enter us along with themselves … and we have been pulled from the hat … so to speak …" she uttered meekly, avoiding her deputy's eyes.

"HE DID WHAT?" Constance was shaking with acute rage like a volcano about to erupt. Her index and little fingers of both hands were sparking with flashes of blue light.

The plate on the mantle was suddenly propelled towards the fern-green carpeted floor, spinning and rolling on its side before it stopped halfway across the room, fell face down and reverberated noisily until it came to a complete halt.

Imogen glanced at Davina; both were exchanging mutual looks of obvious bewilderment.

"The … um … what, Miss Cackle?" Imogen pressed timidly.

"Generally speaking, Miss Drill, it is given the slang term of 'Best in Magic' contest," Constance butted in before Amelia could open her mouth.

"Aha – now I recognise it," Davina said, nodding her head knowingly.

"What's the premise of this competition?" Imogen probed further, still not following.

Amelia sighed deeply, wondering that very question herself. She was not overly familiar with the protocols involved. But she knew who would be.

"We are to take on Pentangle's in the … ah … Potions, Transmogrifications and Duels Triathlon."

"And that involves **what**, exactly?" Imogen looked at the three blankly, once again realising she was completely out of her depth.

Constance exhaled with mild irritation as Amelia glanced up at her deputy, silently hinting for her help in clarifying the finer details.

"It is an ancient practice of potion-making, spell-casting and duelling, which used to specifically comprise of individual organisations of witches and wizards. They would pit their skills against each other in order to achieve the honorary status – Supremacy of Magic. The title would be bestowed upon said winning establishment until the next occasion. The concept originates from over four centuries ago. They switched the format several years back for schools and colleges to compete, and it now appears we have been obligated to proceed right into the centre of it!"

Imogen gave out a small sigh. Could Constance ever explain anything without turning it into a tirade?

Constance began to pace back and forth with her arms folded once again, her face seething and voice heightening.

"How **dare** he? As for the Board of Governors – did they not think to discuss the matter with us first? What an utter nonsensical and pointless farce!"

Imogen cleared her throat as quietly as she could manage, before asking with a touch of apprehension, "So, why are you so – er – upset, Miss Cackle?"

"Mildred Hubble!" was the short reply.

Constance stopped and looked up. "What about her?"

"The Chief Wizard put several names from the third-year and above age groups into the selection process … and … well, her name was one of the two picked to represent our school against … erm … I have it here …" Rummaging through the various sheets in front of her, consisting of half the school's opened post and Davina's jam-covered music notes, Amelia picked up another piece of paper and replaced her glasses on her nose. "Ah yes, Augusta Brothbottle and Deidre Swoop."

"**Brothbottle**? Oh, for goodness' SAKE!" Constance was bolt erect, complete and utter indignation on her face. "Please tell me Mildred's adversary is Deidre?"

"I'm afraid not," Amelia replied glumly.

"Headmistress, you cannot be serious!" Constance gasped. "Brothbottle is their best pupil; she surpasses even the fifth-year girls! She will wipe the floor with Mildred before they even commence the first Challenge. Is there no way to change our candidate?"

Amelia sighed. "I'm afraid not." She leaned over and placed her right hand under her chin.

"And Deidre's opponent?" Constance asked, unable to disguise the tone of dread in her voice.

"Ethel Hallow."

"Deidre is a year OLDER than Ethel!" Constance shrieked.

"Um … who is Augusta Brothbottle?" Imogen directed her question to Amelia with a suitably puzzled expression.

"She is, by all accounts, a very able witch. And apparently – well, according to Phyllis – she is much more accomplished than most of the school combined at Pentangle's. She joined there only a few months ago. She has even been in _Witchcraft Weekly _magazine," Amelia informed them, sitting up straighter and running her hand through her hair.

Constance rolled her eyes.

Feeling somewhat depressed by this point, Imogen folded her arms and sighed heavily. "So when is this 'Supremacy' to take place?"

"A week Saturday. And … it's being hosted here …"

"But today is WEDNESDAY!" Constance looked simply aghast. "Little over a week to train Mildred in the art of magical competing? It cannot possibly be achieved!"

"She will have to have private tuition with you, Constance, from now until the competition. Ethel also – although she is much more able a witch than Mildred … Nevertheless, she will still need some guidance."

"And I presume there is no way around this, Headmistress?" Constance guessed, although her voice was noticeably pleading for another option.

"None. I have already spoken to Chief Wizard Hellibore on the matter – besides, the letter states it is a binding contract."

"I sincerely hope you rebuked him immensely for bringing about this … this …" Constance appeared lost for words, "this **degradation** of **dignity**. What will happen if we lose?"

"Then Pentangle's will once again triumph over Cackle's, and knowing Phyllis Pentangle, she will take great pleasure in pointing out our disgrace until the next one in three years' time."

"In which cas—"

Davina cut her off. "I suppose I could teach Fenella and Griselda a cheerleading dance to perform!" she chimed in excitedly, taking the orchestration baton from her hair and waving it like a pompom.

All three looked at her in flagrant disbelief.

"Ah … um … perhaps not, then …"

"As I was saying …" Constance flashed her eyes at Davina before continuing. "In which case, Headmistress, I suggest we go and announce this to the girls – forthwith," she advised, moving towards the door.

"Erm … there is just **one** more little thing, Miss Hardbroom …"

Constance flicked her head around, her voice lowering to a soft yet deadly tone. "Yes, Headmistress?"

"One of the teachers has to duel against Pentangle's head."

Constance knew full well what the answer was going to be, but, out of politeness, still requested the official confirmation.

"And has said teacher been selected?"

"Er … you, Constance," Amelia muttered in a small voice.

"I see," she replied stiffly. With that, she again turned to leave.

"Oh, Miss Hardbroom …" Imogen piped up helpfully, "it might be an idea to … um … rouse the …" she drifted off as Constance gave her a glare that would melt an iceberg.

"I am quite aware of that, Miss Drill!" Constance said condescendingly. She abruptly raised and aimed her right hand at the door, sending a bolt of brilliant blue light shooting from her fingertips. The door swung open with the force of a tornado, banging against the side of her desk. She swept from the room, slamming it behind her and rattling the (now even looser) hinges.

Davina remained seated for a brief moment in thought, absent-mindedly chewing her lip. "You know, she only ever leaves the correct way when she's really, **really** fuming …" Standing up, she then quickly scurried to the cupboard, opened the doors and climbed in, closing them behind her and once again turning the key.

"Tea, Miss Cackle?" Imogen offered calmly, rolling her eyes and replacing the fallen and slightly battered plate on the mantle as she made her way to the hot-water urn.

"Yes, please. That would be splendid, Imogen," Amelia replied cheerily as if the last fifteen minutes had not occurred. Making a mental note to patch up the plate again, she turned and reached for her secret stash of cheesecake in the small cupboard under the glass-topped doors of the bookcase in the corner behind her, before casually adding, "I'll have six sugars!"


	2. Chapter 2

**UPDATED: 17****TH**** JANUARY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

* * *

Constance slid open the glass-centred double doors to her tall, dark and creaky potions cupboard and moved around the assortment of potion bottles sitting in the individual compartments on the top shelf.

Firstly, the aforementioned Potent Sleeping Draught – finger-marked and unsurprisingly half empty. Followed by Hiccupping Potion, Enlarging Potion, Shrinking Potion, Flu Remedy, Plant-Growing Potion, Anti-Magic-Lurgy Tonic, Elixir of Life Potion, Levitating Juice, Chickenpox Remedy, Finger Spark Potion … The list was endless.

She looked to the second shelf down, viewing in between the numerous and varyingly sized glass jars and bottles, cotton bags of herbs, miniature wooden boxes and empty phials. She pushed a jar, neatly labelled as Spiders' Egg Powder, to the left and, reaching behind the now-facing small marble pestle and mortar, grasped beyond it. She looked at the full bottle of Wide Awake Potion held in her hand. It was a good job she still had plenty, but then, she relied on it so much.

_And especially of late, _she thought, sighing.

She took a small, empty glass tubular phial, thin, like a test tube, and funnelled in some of the potion before replacing the corked top. She put it onto her desk beside the cupboard and screwed the lid back on the original bottle. She placed the funnel on its head to dry, closed the doors, turned around and abruptly gripped the table next to her …

_Easy now … just … let it pass … _

A wave of dizziness swept over Constance as she fought to remain conscious. The pressing heaviness swirled in her head as her body began to tremble. Her chest tightened slightly, causing her to gasp several times, and the air seemed to thin as she inhaled. She closed her eyes for a few moments, desperate to relieve the nauseating sensation enveloping her as if she was inside a cyclone. This was the twenty-first attack in less than half as many weeks. The girls were certainly noticing – considering today's events that was quite apparent. Constance swallowed, took several deep breaths and opened her eyes, surveying the room. It was now focused and stationary.

_Good. It's gone. I really must eat more, _she reasoned. She straightened up, picked up the phial and made her way to the dining room.

Sure enough, the elongated area was indeed full of sleeping pupils, several snoring. They were all slumped in their chairs and a few had literally fallen into their lunch. She opened the phial and poured the contents into an empty mint-green china bowl on the blue-and-white checked tablecloth of the serving counter. She knew it was not exactly the most efficient method to administer the potion, but a choking pupil was certainly less desirable at the moment than the chances of it not working effectively enough. Constance put her hands in front of her, extending her index and little fingers, and wrapped each thumb around the two remaining fingers in the centre. She pointed them towards the bowl. From her fingertips and into the bowl flew sparks of golden light, instantly lifting the liquid into the air in a ball of red, resulting in a form which closely resembled a giant cherry. She turned to face the girls with the ball hovering above her and lowered it to her eye level. With a flick of her wrists the ball then separated into streamed lines of red sparks which then flew, one a piece, into every girl in the room.

"What happened?"

"What's going on?"

"Get your elbow off my plate!"

"Get YOUR elbow out of my face!"

"What was THAT?"

An increasingly loud level of noise was ensuing.

"QUIET!" Constance roared, her harsh voice carrying across the room.

The girls stopped talking immediately and turned to face their deputy headmistress.

"Now that you are back with us, perhaps the instigators of this little adventure could come forward?" Constance requested silkily, trying to control her temper.

Slowly, and with obvious reluctance, Mildred, Enid, Maud, Ethel Hallow and Drusilla Paddock made their way to the front of the room. It was no use denying any of it, as it was Miss Drill who had been on lunch duty and interrupted the argument between them before the potion took effect. They stood before their enraged teacher.

Maud was the first to speak, Enid having thoughtfully prompted her with a sharp poke in her spine.

"Miss, it was Ethel's faul—"

"**No**, Miss Hardbroom – **they** started it!" Ethel said quickly, lying through her teeth and feigning an appalled expression.

"We didn't mean to," Mildred added, finding her tongue. "We jus—"

"SILENCE!"

Constance's dark hazel eyes flashed them dangerously. She paced up and down beside the group, her voice lowering into a snarl.

"We make rules because without them there would be absolute anarchy. We make rules because they instill discipline and en-fashion character. But most of all, we make rules because we expect them to be OBEYED! HOW MANY MORE TIMES MUST I CLARIFY THIS INFORMATION UNTIL IT PENETRATES YOUR INTELLECTS?" Constance yelled. She turned to face them. "I don't care **whose** fault it was. Due to a situation you will all shortly be aware of, this matter will conclude until the end of next weekend. **Then** … you will **all** do detention with me **every** night for an ENTIRE MONTH! All of you …" Constance fixed the room with a piercing stare, "are to proceed in SILENCE to the Great Hall immediately." She glared at them once more, folding her arms in her customary manner, and vanished.

"Phewwwwww," Enid whistled. "I expected far worse than **that**!" she said hotly, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Shhh," Maud whispered. "She could still be here," she said, looking around furtively.

"Which one of you idiots put the wrong orange juice into the main jug?" Ethel angrily accused the group.

"I did, as it happens, Ethel," Maud said, turning to face her. "And if you hadn't been so eager to carry on bullying everyone else into betting on how much longer HB is going to be off it, Millie and I wouldn't have accidentally given everyone the potion instead of just us – as that's who it was meant for, wasn't it?"

"Well, it would have served you right!" Ethel retorted, sticking her nose in the air. "You had nothing to do with any of the bets Drusilla and I had in place. You were threatening to tell Miss Hardbroom, so why shouldn't we defend ourselves? And besides, Mildred hasn't exactly been nice to her, either."

"Millie may have touched a nerve this morning, but what you did was horrible. HB isn't well – anyone can see that. She hasn't looked good for a couple of months now. It's obvious she keeps going dizzy. Look at her the other day in broomstick practice with the first-years – she was clinging on that tight her knuckles were white. By the time they were on the ground she was practically wheezing. And considering she's our form mistress for the third year running – in case you hadn't noticed – she's not even been as fierce as usual with us!" Maud glared at her.

Enid released a small cough.

"Plus she nearly fainted Monday afternoon in potions class, and now, just to top things off, **you** go and do something like this!" Maud finished. She turned back to Mildred, who was miles away. "What are you thinking, Mil?"

Mildred was staring into mid-air. "Just … just wondering if she really is ill … Haven't you noticed how much thinner she's been getting week by week? And she's never been anything **but **thin since we've known her; even her skin-tight dresses are looking more than a little baggy. Maybe we should back off a bit. Be nicer to her, even if she's not always nice to us. She's the one with all the power here – what would we do without her …?"

The girls looked at each other and agreed a silent truce with Ethel and Drusilla. For now, anyway.

* * *

Constance unexpectedly appeared in the staffroom, causing the occupants to jump and a rather large amount of tea to be spilt.

"Headmistress, they are all awake – whether they are receptive may be another matter. I suggest we go and announce the news," she informed Amelia, frustration in her voice.

"Very well, Constance. Constance, have you had any lunch, dear? You look very pale," Amelia observed, flicking her wrist and removing the spilled liquid.

"I'm **fine**, Headmistress. Can we please get this over with," Constance added firmly.

They left the staffroom. Imogen went over to Davina's cupboard.

"Miss Bat, I really think you should come, too."

Davina mumbled something incomprehensible, turned the key, opened the doors, stepped out and reluctantly took Imogen's arm. A pile of blue-covered notebooks scattered to the floor behind her.

* * *

The girls assembled in the Great Hall as directed, ready for their headmistress, a number of them sporting shiny red faces having quickly scrubbed clean the crusty specks remaining from their somewhat messy lunchtime. The teachers soon arrived, their presence instantly bringing a halt to the growing chatter.

After about ten minutes, Amelia finally paused for breath and continued.

"Well, girls, that is what is to be happening. Mildred and Ethel, for the next week you are to have private lessons with Miss Hardbroom in preparation for the Challenges."

Mildred and Ethel looked at each other in horror. There was a general murmur of anticipation and excitement now making its way across the Hall.

"Next week, we shall be preparing the castle for our guests. Pentangle's will likely be bringing a small group of their third- and fourth-year pupils with them, being as Augusta and Deidre are those years respectively. You are to make them feel welcome and no 'funny business'." She quickly met Enid's eyes. "Is that perfectly understood? They arrive next Friday evening. Wednesday and Thursday will be spent making the castle suitable for the occasion. That is all; the afternoon is yours as you wish. I don't expect we will get much sense from any of you for the remainder of today."

Constance was practically frothing at the mouth. "Headmistress, I –"

"Constance, they are like excited little rabbits – no good for teaching. Besides, you can use the time to start with Mildred and Ethel's training."

"As you wish, Headmistress." Constance sighed, her expression distinctly unamused.

"You may leave, girls," Amelia said, concluding her speech. She smiled and nodded at her pupils.

"Thank you, Miss Cackle," chorused the Great Hall.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Mildred and Ethel made their way to the potion lab after Amelia had caught up with them and told them there was no time like the present to begin training. Mildred knocked on the closed oak door. The expected firm, ascetic voice of their form mistress instructing them to enter did not sound.

Ethel peeped up to the small door window. "I can't see her …"

Mildred stood on her tiptoes to look as Ethel stepped aside, her longer legs reaching higher. "Oh, crikey … Ethel …" Mildred turned her head towards her, "I think HB's on the floor!"

Mildred twisted the handle; they pushed the heavy door open and sprinted inside. Constance was indeed on the paved stone floor by the front of her desk at the back of the room. She was lying partially on her side, her right arm at the side of her head and left around her waist. Her eyes were closed.

Mildred stood and stared for a few seconds, somewhat unnerved at the sight of her motionless teacher on the ground.

"What do you suppose happened? Do you think she's **okay**?"

"I don't know …" Ethel replied, edging nearer, slight apprehension on her face. "Is she breathing?"

Mildred made her way over to her form mistress. She crouched beside her and gingerly felt her neck for a pulse.

"She's breathing all right … but … her pulse is really slow. Better go and fetch Miss Cackle. And Miss Drill – she's better at first aid."

While she waited for her teachers to arrive, Mildred took Constance's black cloak from her chair and covered her with it, then took off her own black cardigan and gently put it under her teacher's head in an attempt to shield her from the coldness of the floor.

Mildred pondered looking down at her, feeling guilty at their earlier escapades. _She sure doesn't look very well, _she thought. Kneeling down next to her, she gazed around the room at the various scroll posters on the walls, each depicting all the potion ingredients she would no doubt now have to completely memorise for the competition. She rolled her eyes. _Fan-bloody-tastic! _

A muted groan sounded from Constance.

"Miss Hardbroom?"

Constance moved her head a little and fluttered her eyelids, then fully opened them. She took a moment to blink her vision clear, becoming aware she was on the floor. She looked up at Mildred's face.

"Mildred?"

"It's okay, Miss – Ethel's gone for help – I think you may have passed out. Miss Cackle is on her way."

_Oh, __**God**__! _Constance thought. _That's all I need – Amelia panicking over me._

Moments later the door, having closed itself after Ethel, flew wide open, banging loudly against the wall.

"Constance!" Amelia shrieked in panic, running over. "Are you ALL RIGHT? No, no – oh – of course you're not." She knelt beside her deputy. "Don't try to get up, Constance. We should send for a doctor."

"I'm **fine**, Headmistress. Minor hypoglycaemia, I think. I will be perfectly well after a little food."

Imogen entered the room quickly. Ethel had gone for her after alerting Amelia. Mildred stood and walked over to Ethel. The pair remained by the door, watching the events unfold.

"Is she conscious?" Imogen asked, a tone of unease in her voice.

"Yes, **she** is!" Constance snapped, irritated at the amount of attention currently being directed towards her. "And I AM FINE!"

Imogen sighed. She may have always coped relatively well with the usual variety of problems that arose, but the combination of Constance Hardbroom and illness was not something she was prepared for.

Constance sat up, removing her cloak. Steadying herself, she pushed a now-upright Amelia's offered arm forcefully out of the way and cautiously pulled herself to standing, using the long bench in front of her as support. Within seconds of doing so, without warning, she felt another surge of dizziness hit her like a bolt of lightning. The group watched as she muttered something under her breath before appearing to take a small gasp of air. Amelia grabbed her by the waist as she slumped backwards. Imogen flew over and took her limp weight from a somewhat teetering Amelia. They laid her carefully on the floor. Imogen set about feeling Constance's wrist, wearing a look of increasing worry.

Mildred raised her eyebrows at Ethel; each had developed mutually concerned expressions.

"Constance – this is non-negotiable. We are calling a doctor and that is final," Amelia said decisively, pursing her lips in solid determination.

Constance didn't answer. Her eyes were shut again.


	3. Chapter 3

**UPDATED: 17****TH**** JANUARY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

* * *

Amelia organised a stretcher and had her unconscious deputy magically flown to her bedroom, rendering the pupils somewhat bemused at the scene of their usually intensely terrifying and formidable teacher completely immobile. She sent Davina with her, and the doctor arrived within fifteen minutes.

Normally, Amelia didn't approve of technology: that is to say Constance did not approve, therefore a telephone line had never previously been installed. But after last year's events, it was decided perhaps they should – at the very least – have a line of communication fitted. Especially as – at the time – they had had the funds to do it with. Also, it was useful for parents to be able to contact the school in an emergency. Fortunately, the street directly outside the entrance road which gradually ascended to their somewhat high location had a telegraph pole opposite. Unfortunately, it took nine workmen, seven weeks and, perhaps, in the end, too much money and hassle to sort it!

Amelia opened inwards the right-hand side of the castle's arched, rusty-hinged, heavy front double doors fully as she heard footsteps approaching.

"Thank you for coming so quickly."

"Ah, Dr Herbert Rowan-Webb at your service. I was very near the area, as it happens. Is my car okay just outside the gates? I must say, it was quite an adventure driving up your … um … mountain …"

He smiled. He was a tall, thin man, rather handsome, with green eyes, very dark brown short hair, a firm jawline and impeccably clipped moustache. He was wearing a beige mac coat, white shirt, a green tie held in place by a silver clip, black trousers and what appeared to be closer in design to black hiking boots rather than shoes.

Amelia looked him up and down. She concluded he couldn't have been much older than forty.

He briskly rubbed down his wet coat and black leather case from the afternoon's rain, the wet spattering on the criss-cross, grey-and-yellow patterned tiles of the hallway.

"Rowan-Webb?" Amelia asked in surprise. Imogen just said Dr Herbert – I didn't realise. You're not related to Algernon Rowan-Webb, by any chance, are you?"

"Yes, indeedy! He is my uncle – my late father's younger brother. It was such a relief when he got back in touch after almost four decades. I was only a very small child when he disappeared. He told me of how your little Mildred Hubble saved him; she sounds like a very able pupil."

"Er … yes …" she said uncertainly, her memory flashing with several past incidents involving her most notorious pupil to date.

He pointed upwards and smiled. "Erm … shall we?"

They made their way to Constance's quarters.

Imogen had suggested they give him a ring after being introduced to him on the first-aid course she had attended at the nearest hospital to them during the holidays. Even though it was meant mainly for witches and wizards wishing to learn the various fundamental and, in some cases, more advanced procedures, she was very welcomed. Considering her position within the school as gym mistress and, other than Constance, arguably the one to go to in a medical emergency, she thought she ought to refresh her skills with any newer techniques which may have come upon the horizon in recent months. And now it seemed they may come in useful in the forthcoming events.

* * *

"Millie, don't look so worried. I'm sure she will be okay," Maud said, trying to reassure her friend, despite wondering deep down herself if Miss Hardbroom really was going to be all right.

They were sitting in Mildred's bedroom. Mildred was looking out of the window, staring at the rain now falling increasingly faster. She turned to look at Maud.

"It's just … it's HB. HB **doesn't** faint! HB **doesn't **get ill! She's as strong as an ox."

"Well … maybe she's had a burnout?" Enid suggested. She was behind Mildred's door, absent-mindedly peeling off a little more of the loose plaster from the wall. "Let's face it, she's a workaholic and never stops, and when do you ever see her eat? Or sleep even, for that matter."

"Even so," Mildred said, carrying on. "I am a bit worried. I never realised just how much she means to this school. How would we cope without her here? Think of all the times we've needed her help."

"Hmm," Maud mused, stroking Tabby's mottled grey fur. "Well, the doctor is here now. I'm sure he will fix her up."

* * *

Amelia led the doctor into Constance's room. The doctor placed his bag on the floor beside the bed, surveying his pasty-looking patient. Amelia was watching her from the end of the bedstead. Constance stirred after a moment or two. She opened her eyes, blinking several times. She looked up to see Davina sitting beside her left on her double bed. She was feeling Constance's pulse. Constance made to snatch her arm away, just as her peripheral vision espied the **man** in her room.

"Oh, **really**, Headmistress – I am PERFECTLY FINE!"

"Let me be the judge of that," Dr Rowan-Webb said pointedly but kindly, smiling at Constance.

Realising her tight bun was now fully unwound and her previously plaited waist-length hair long and loose, Constance narrowed her eyes and glared accusingly at Davina.

"This is completely unnecessary," Constance urged, sitting up. Feeling distinctly weaker than she expected to, she marginally shook her head and very quickly laid herself down again.

"Constance, **please** don't argue, dear. You've not been well for weeks," Amelia implored her deputy. She was now standing beside Constance's bed, wearing a concerned expression.

Davina stood and walked around, placing herself beside Amelia and folding her arms firmly in the process, as if the action would somehow make Constance less likely to protest any further.

The doctor hid his amusement at Davina's stance and addressed Constance, sensing his patient's growing need for rest.

"Do you consent for me to examine you, Miss Hardbroom?"

Constance nodded slightly, too washed out to raise an objection.

"Ladies, if you wouldn't mind," he requested, gesturing Amelia and Davina out of the room.

Constance still had a blatantly apparent look of displeasure about her as Amelia caught her eyeline before leaving with Davina to wait outside.

"Now then, Miss Hardbroom …" Kneeling beside the bed, he smiled again and opened his black leather case. "Let's take a look at you."

* * *

"Erm … Miss Cackle, may I have a word?" Dr Rowan-Webb asked quietly as he came out of the room some twenty-five minutes later and shut the door.

Amelia and Davina were chatting a little way down the corridor.

"Certainly, Doctor," Amelia answered cheerfully.

He addressed Davina. "Perhaps you could stay with Miss Hardbroom a little longer?"

They heard a loud, deliberate, exasperated sigh come from within the bedroom.

* * *

"Now, Miss Cackle …"

"Oh, call me Amelia, please."

"Very well, Amelia, then you must call me Herbert," he insisted, smiling.

They had gone into the staffroom. Imogen was seeing that all the girls were not causing any mischief, leaving Davina watching over a thoroughly annoyed Constance.

Amelia aimed her hand at the unlit fireplace: it ignited with a whoosh of flames and began to burn the logs within brightly. Herbert sat down in the flowery armchair to the right of the fireside. Amelia busied herself making a pot of tea. She turned to him, holding a green cup.

"Sugar?"

"Two, please," Herbert requested.

Stirring the liquid briskly, she handed him his cup and saucer, then stirred hers before tapping the spoon on the rim.

He took a sip and spluttered slightly.

"Oh – I'm sorry; we only have tea leaves left, and not a particularly good strainer. I suppose I really ought to fix it," Amelia immediately apologised. She pulled over the un-matching, golden brown, decoratively patterned armchair and seated herself opposite him.

He smiled. "Oh, not to worry, my grandmother did, too. Oh, I didn't mean … I –" Clearing his throat he changed the subject. "Well, it seems that your Miss Hardbroom is not at all well, but I am afraid I do not know what is wrong with her. She told me – which I might add took some fifteen minutes of questioning to find out – that she has been suffering dizziness and the occasional blackout since a week or so into the new term. I examined her, blood pressure and such like – everything seemed relatively normal, within reason. Her ear canal was also clear and her balance seemed okay. Her pulse was a little fast, though. Usually when a person faints their pulse slows down, but given her … well … lack of enthusiasm at being the centre of attention, I imagine stress played a part in it speeding up so quickly. It appears she was only just coming round when we entered – how long was she actually unconscious for?"

"Er … well, Mildred and Ethel found her and Ethel fetched me and Imogen. By the time we got there she was awake and talking, but then she fainted again almost immediately after she stood up. So from then until we went in … oh, I suppose fifteen, twenty minutes. Why?" Amelia queried, now a little more worried than before.

"Well, generally speaking, a faint is only a few minutes – if that. It's certainly sounding less like a faint and more like a full collapse; however, the fact is, she has point-blank refused any further testing of any kind. Unless something else occurs I can do no more, and I'm afraid I cannot force her. She claims it was hypoglycaemia," Herbert finished, taking a gulp of tea.

"Pardon? Sorry, what was that?"

Herbert cleared his throat. "Oh – sorry – medical term. It means a low blood sugar level, something which is usually seen in diabetics, but can occur when one has not eaten enough to maintain the balance of the blood's …"

Amelia's eyes glazed somewhat as she vaguely remembered Constance uttering the term earlier. Medicine wasn't her strongest point. Checking for broken bones and basic first aid was about her limit. Constance and Imogen were better at that sort of thing.

"So – she needs to eat more, then?" Amelia concluded, taking a sip of her own brew.

"Yes, in a nutshell. But that doesn't explain the general dizziness in between, unless, of course, she hardly eats. Also, the dark circles under her eyes are an indication she gets little rest and –" He stopped. Amelia was smiling.

"I'm afraid you have rather hit the nail on the head there, Herbert. Our dear Constance has the appetite of a bird, and she doesn't sleep very well, either. But on the whole she has never really outwardly suffered any ailments; even with the usual coughs and colds the girls catch, she always seems to remedy herself accordingly without any difficulty. There is one thing … I don't know if it is significant, though …"

"Fire away, Amelia. You never know …" Herbert said, settling back into his chair.

"It must be about sixteen years ago or so now … In fact, come to think of it, it was only a few months after she started working for me. It was day before her birthday – not that she was going to allow any reference or fuss to it. She didn't turn up for the morning assembly which she never misses. I went to her room and she was still in bed, wrapped right up to the neck in her dressing gown and blankets. She was shaking **very **badly and shivering with cold. I helped her sit up and she tried to talk, but then she suddenly collapsed. I immediately felt her pulse, as you can imagine, and it was awfully slow, but she had no fever. In fact, she was icy to the touch, although she was breathing fine – actually, it quickly became **very** quiet. Then something extremely peculiar happened. Her entire body became encased by a barrier of white light, and I was abruptly shoved off the bed with the force of it. She was quite literally glowing. It stayed around her for the whole time and prevented us physically touching her. The strangest thing was she didn't wake up properly for nearly two days. I sent Davina down to the village for a doctor, but the usual GP they had was away and his locum and colleague were unavailable. They had been called away – to a rather tragic emergency I later discovered – that morning thanks to the heavy snow. Not that we knew how to break through the obstruction even if we had managed to get a GP here. We determined she must have taken a potion or something and was just in a very deep sleep. Davina stayed with her all the time. She said Constance never moved an inch. We decided that if she didn't at least wake up by the morning we would have to get additional advice. She briefly came round the next day for a minute or so – long enough to inform Davina she was fine, just shattered, and to get herself to bed – before immediately falling asleep. She slept until the early hours of the following morning before she awoke fully and the haze dispersed, but she continued to sleep a great deal for the next few days. About a week later, she was apparently back to normal except for one thing … and … I've never been able to understand it. It was almost as if her strength of power had somehow increased. I watched her very, very late one evening in the potion lab. She had lowered the blinds, but I – er – bypassed them. She was moving objects without having any contact. But it wasn't like a normal spell. Even with a mentally performed incantation it is usually fairly limiting as to how many things one can do at once. She was brewing potions, reading, a pen was writing by itself, not to mention dusting the desks and mopping the floor all at the same time. The items of the room were actually vibrating with the energy seemingly coming out of her. I never told her what I had witnessed, or Davina, for that matter. Nor did we mention the light which had encircled her. She didn't elaborate on the occurrence to us, either. She blamed the complete episode on exhaustion. Before long it was like nothing had happened."

"Hmm … well, that is certainly very interesting. And the fact she does not eat or sleep much in general explains a great deal. But she has, as I said, refused any further attention from me. I do, however, strongly suggest she spends some time in bed to recover before going about her normal duties. Feel free to ring any time you need any further help." Herbert smiled and raised one eyebrow. "She … ah … is quite a character …"

Amelia laughed. "Indeed. Although I think it may be necessary in this instance to tie her to the bed!"

Herbert laughed in return.

* * *

The next day at breakfast the dining room was buzzing with the story of Miss Hardbroom's collapse. Amelia had just departed, having explained that Constance was to have a few days rest and not to bother her.

"Can you believe it?"

"Honestly, **HB** ill!"

"Impossible, nothing could hurt her."

"Millie," Maud said soothingly. "You heard Miss Cackle – HB will be **okay**. I'd be more worried about how you're going to go against Augusta Brothbottle!"

"Oh, shut up, will you, Maud. Can't you see she's scared enough as it is!" Enid snapped, nudging Maud and looking at Mildred's discontented face.

"Why don't you and Ethel team up? After all, it is for the benefit of the school," Jadu suggested, spooning in a mouthful of the substance in front of her and swallowing before she actually had to taste it.

"You've got to be **kidding**, Jadu …" Ruby said, raising her eyebrows sceptically.

"Well, unless you've any better ideas?" Jadu mused. "Oh, did you hear the news? Turns out the doctor is RW's nephew. I overheard Miss Cackle telling Bat and Drill earlier. Apparently Miss Drill met him on a first-aid course and, after hearing she worked here, he gave her his number in case we ever needed a doctor."

"Ooooooh, what **will** Serge say, I wonder?" Enid said, grinning widely.

They all laughed somewhat raucously, continuing to discuss the subject while trying not to notice what they had been served up supposedly as breakfast. Gruel would have been a more appropriate term for the lumpy, greying concoction in the green bowls before them.

Ethel approached their table. Her high blond ponytail, neatly tied with a black bowed ribbon, was swinging behind her and upturned nose pointed with self-importance as usual.

"Listen up, you lot. I know this sounds strange coming from me, but Hubble Bubble is useless and with Miss Hardbroom out of action for a few days, I suggest we all get together and help Mildred. Goodness knows she needs it, and I don't want the Hallow name being dragged into disrepute because she loses her part of the competition," Ethel advised persuasively. She looked at them. "My father is one of the judges! Daddy rang this morning and spoke to me about it. **You're** not supposed to know yet."

Mildred, Maud, Enid, Ruby and Jadu glanced at Ethel and each other with amused expressions on their faces. _DADDY! _they smirked inwardly.

"All right, then. We're in," they agreed.

Ethel gave a slightly grimaced smile and walked back to Drusilla.

Enid sniggered in amazement. "Am I having a blackout now … or did that just really happen?"

Mildred sighed. "No, it happened." She pushed her bowl away and rested her chin in her cupped hands. "Wonder what HB will think …?"

* * *

Constance frowned as she sat up in bed. She folded her arms in a huff, her long hair cascading down her deftly embroidered black silk dressing gown, which she had wrapped very tightly around herself.

"I must protest **most** strongly, Headmistress. You seriously expect me to sit here for the next three days doing NOTHING?" She looked like she had been ordered to retire.

"Yes, Constance, you heard what Herbert said, you have –"

"I DO NOT have to do anything, Headmistress. For the last time, I am perfectly fine – I simply haven't been eating enough. I gave him permission to convey to you I was adequately well and that is all there is to it! Now, if you don't mind, I will – yes – I WILL be teaching my class this morning and should like to get ready!"

"Constance, you really mustn't –"

"Headmistress, I have two third-years about to represent this school, one of whom is a very big liability and the other against a more proficient witch. I have a class of second-years with their midterm mock potions exam tomorrow morning, and I will be getting more than a little upset if you attempt to confine me to my bedchamber. I shall carry on as normal, thank you very kindly, and I would appreciate it if everyone would stop looking at me like I am about to keel over at any time. And I WILL still be competing against that dreadful Pentangle's woman!"

"Oh no, Constance – you can't possibly, we have to canc—" Amelia broke off given the look of pure determination on Constance's face.

"No, we will not be cancelling. You said it was a binding contract, Amelia, and as much as I would prefer it not to be occurring, it most certainly will not be stopped because I was too weak to compete!"

Amelia sighed and resigned herself to the fact that Constance was unlikely to budge on the subject.

"Very well, Constance. It is your body, dear, but I do wish you would accept that even you are not infallible." With that, she patted Constance's shoulder and stood up to leave the room.

Constance smiled weakly. "Thank you, Amelia."

Amelia left, closing the door softly behind her.

"Oh, for the love of God!" Constance snapped in temper. "What **else** could happen this term?"

Constance climbed out of bed, still a little woozy. She started to undress to get ready for her class. She noticed the scratch reappearing on her upper left arm, caused by the most uncharacteristic behaviour of Morgana just before the start of term. It was still red, almost incandescent. Fortunately, she had managed to hide it from the doctor with a quickly muttered Camouflage Spell, as she really did not require his opinion on that as well as everything else!

She sighed. _Maybe I am a little out of sorts. _She shrugged. _I don't have TIME to be ill! _

She walked into her en suite bathroom at the far right side of her room and slammed the door behind her with venom.


	4. Chapter 4

**UPDATED: 17****TH**** JANUARY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

* * *

Mildred filed into her class with Maud, Enid and the rest of the gang, followed by Ethel, Drusilla and the remaining girls.

"Wonder who will be taking our lessons today?" Enid muttered under her breath, pulling out her messy brown plait and retying it.

"Quiet …"

The room fell silent as the girls turned around in complete surprise to see Constance standing in the doorway of the classroom.

"Miss … are you all right now?" Mildred asked cautiously.

"Yes, I am quite 'all right', thank you, Mildred. Oh, don't **look **at me like that, girls. I was a little overtired, that's all. Now, shall we get on?"

Constance walked over to the blackboard and removed the previous day's lesson with a flick of her wrist. She turned to face her class, sitting in pairs at their individual lift-top wooden desks.

"Now then, as we all know, in little over a week we are hosting the ancient and respected Witchcraft and Wizardry Supreme Challenge," Constance told her class as enthusiastically as she could manage.

Mildred was convinced she saw HB roll her eyes.

"And as such, this means, for the time being, certainly, you shall be working from the various third-year text books respective to our scheduled lessons when I am not around to continue our usual curriculum."

Mildred glanced at Maud; Maud half-shrugged her shoulders: the pair wondering whether they should tell HB that they had stayed up half the night already looking at all the spells and potions books in the library for ideas …

"Drusilla, could you hand these out, please," Constance requested.

A pile of books appeared out of thin air onto Drusilla's desk.

"Maud, being as how you have already done some extensive reading …"

Mildred raised her eyebrows at Maud. _How did she …?_

Constance offered a very small smile. "I would like you to watch over the class until I return, please."

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," Maud said with a stunned face.

Constance beckoned Mildred and Ethel to follow her as she left the room. She opened the arched double doors and led the way into the empty Great Hall. The atmosphere was cold, as always. Yet more rain was pelting on the thick-framed, decorative stained-glass windows situated at either side of the pale blue-grey wall at the opposite end of the room. They could hear the teeming water leaking in small drips through the weatherworn tiled roof. The enormous grey stone fireplace to their right was visibly damp; the supporting square pillars at either side actually had droplets of moisture upon them. And the square and rectangular oak-panelled walls seemed to increase the general gloominess of the room.

"Now then, girls …" Constance turned to her pupils and cleared her throat. "As Miss Cackle told you, there are to be three Challenges. The first Challenge is Potions: the point of which being to simply determine who makes the most inventive and/or useful potion, nothing more. The second Challenge is Transmogrification: obviously, whosoever transmogrifies themselves into the more impressive creature shall win. And finally, the Magical Duel. As you are aware, there are many different types of magic. Potions may work independently or with combined incantations, as incantations can also work independently and are often adjusted to suit the situation, which can prove very useful to the caster. Fundamentally, an incantation is the same in principal as a spell and vice versa. The exception to this fact is that some incantations can also be used to activate an ingested potion, where as, generally speaking, a specific spell usually works on its own for a precise result."

Mildred swallowed hard.

"Now, Ethel, I know you can manage the first two, and I'm sure with some tuition, Mildred, you can as well. However, magical duelling is a craft of its own; although rules for safety are in place, it can be extremely dangerous and you need to know the basics. Whenever you cast a spell at your opponent, be it for the purpose of defence or deactivation – in other words, to knock them off their feet or course of thought – it must **always **be aimed below the chest to avoid potentially serious damage. Or you could use the Reflection Charm – send their own spell straight back at them. Other spells you may cast would be to combat whatever they throw at you. For instance, if I was to send the Nettle-Sting Spell at you, you could recite the counter curse before it hit you, and then reciprocate with an appropriate spell to fight back with and so on. Now, do you think you are both up to this?"

"I will do my very best, Miss Hardbroom," Ethel promised solemnly, although she outwardly appeared rather unsure.

"Mildred?" Constance asked her reluctant-looking pupil.

Mildred forced a smile. "I will try as hard as is possible, Miss Hardbroom."

"Good. In which case, I wish you both to sit in here – it is more peaceful than the classroom – and read from these. I shall be back shortly."

Two books appeared in Constance's hands: _Potions and Transmogrifications for Competitors_ and _Spells and Incantations for Duelling_. She handed them one each. Constance then turned on her heeled leather boots and left the Great Hall, closing the double doors behind her.

"I'm soooo going to bugger this up!" Mildred moaned miserably, dropping to the floor and banging her head with the book.

"Mildred, in any other situation I'd be pretty pleased about that, but in this case, I'm here to help you."

Ethel held out her hand and shook Mildred's. Mildred didn't know what to say.

"Well, for the next week or so, anyway," Ethel added, grinning.

* * *

"Soooo, what happened?" Maud asked Mildred inquisitively at lunch.

"We just sat and read and showed each other things. You'd think we were best friends as she's been so nice. I guess she really doesn't want to get shown up. After all, her father **is** the head of the Board of Governors."

"How did chanting go?" Mildred addressed Enid.

"All right until we started trying to sing her latest cacophony. How on earth she expects us to reach a high E is beyond me. My cat could do it better!"

Mildred giggled. "You could always stamp on each other's feet – **then** you'd reach the note!"

"Think she will have a chant prepared for the competition?" Maud said, looking up with raised eyebrows.

"Doubt it. Don't think HB would stand for it. I get the feeling she's already wound up about the whole thing," Mildred concluded.

"Not exactly fair to pit Deidre against Ethel, though, is it?" Jadu pointed out for the umpteenth time.

"Miss Cackle said it was the luck of the draw," Mildred said sadly, secretly wishing she had Deidre instead, especially considering Augusta's supposed reputation, according to Fen and Gris, and they should know – they subscribe to _Witchcraft Weekly_!

"I still think I'd prefer Deidre to … What was her name?" Ruby asked, once again forgetting.

Maud smirked. "Augusta Brothbottle."

"WHAT a name!" Enid said, sniggering.

"Quite," Jadu added, laughing as the rest joined in.

* * *

"Constance … um … how are you feeling, dear?" Davina said timidly that night, unsure whether to ask the deputy or not.

Constance was standing by the staffroom fireplace, arms folded, staring towards the window.

"If just one more person enquires how I am feeling, I will turn them into a frog!"

Davina grabbed her bowl of fresh fruit salad and headed for the sanctuary of the cupboard.

"She'll move her bed in there before long!" Constance quipped.

"Aaah … good evening, ladies," Amelia said as she walked in, sighing and leaning back against the door as she closed it.

Imogen rose from her stiff chair by the window, stretched out her arms and yawned.

"Well, I think I ought to turn in, Miss Cackle – long day tomorrow – I have the cross-country run planned for the third-years."

"Miss Drill, I –"

"Constance –" Amelia quickly cut in over her deputy's forthcoming objections. "Imogen has already removed Mildred and Ethel and told them to see you after your mock potions exam. They can use the extra time to study quietly up until then."

"I see. Thank you, Miss Drill. Good night."

And with that, Constance vanished.

"Still not well, is she …?" Imogen commented softly, having noticed for the first time how very thin Constance had become.

"No," Amelia said quietly, frowning a little. "I don't think she is."

* * *

"Does she **really** believe this is going to enhance our future careers?" Maud whispered to Enid early the next morning. They were getting ready to leave by the main entrance.

Enid was taking as long as possible to retie her trainers. "Running around the muddy woods in drizzling rain for two hours – just brilliant! It's the beginning of **May **for God's sake and freezing!" she barked.

"Oh, do hurry up, girls!" Imogen urged the group impatiently.

"I don't mind," Ruby said, smiling and tying her frizzy black hair in bunches.

"**You** wouldn't!" Jadu grinned at her. "**You're** never still."

* * *

Later that morning, Constance led the second-years into the potion lab.

"Take your seats, girls. On your desks you will find the necessary equipment and instructions for your test. No other utensils other than what is on your desk are allowed."

Constance wrote the time on the blackboard and sat down. She spun her metal timer its full circle and replaced it on her desk.

"You have exactly one hour – you may begin."

Constance glanced at the papers in front of her. She read the various pieces the fourth-year girls had produced the previous week on their Original Potion Development plans. Fenella Feverfew and Griselda Blackwood, as per usual, had come up with a very novel approach: this time, the effect of seemingly semi-permanently removing body hair, of all things. Still, she could see their point in using an Anti-Werewolf Potion as the basis. Theoretically, as it would certainly remove the hair, by then adding extra 'chemist-bought ingredients' (which were normally frowned upon by her), the combination in this case seemed to work … Very well, in fact. And although the resulting product was not strictly an ingestible potion, Constance was impressed enough to allow them to submit their idea. Unfortunately, they were now being badgered by the puberty-hit second- and third-years for more of their invention after seeing it transform a friend's rather hairy arms and legs.

She smiled slightly – they could always be relied upon to outdo themselves. She looked up. _Fifteen minutes left … I ought to update the board, _she thought. She began to stand up …

_Not … again …_

Constance wavered as her head seemed to fill with molten lead. The daylight darkened in her vision as oppressive giddiness began to pull her body downwards. Staggering on her feet as the air thinned once more in her lungs, she clutched at her desk with weakening force, outwardly hanging on for dear life.

"Miss? Miss – are you OKAY?" Sybil Hallow scrambled up and quickly approached her. The rest of the class were already rapidly murmuring amongst themselves at the unnerving sight of their teacher seemingly about to faint.

Constance was trembling, her head bowed and eyes closed. Sybil grabbed her arm and helped her sit down.

"Should I go for Miss Cackle?" Sybil asked her teacher in a hushed tone, obviously very worried.

Constance swallowed and lifted her head. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

"I … I'm f-fine, t-thank you, S-Sybil. Please … sit back down and … continue with your exam."

The class became silent once more, knowing better than to enquire further.

* * *

"It happened again, Ethel."

Ethel was standing across the hallway from Mildred, waiting for the second-years to emerge before going to see Constance.

"What are you going on about this time, Sybil?" Ethel said, her expression completely uninterested.

Sybil pushed her lank, mousy hair out of her eyes and huffed in annoyance.

"**Miss Hardbroom**! She went all funny and drip white. I thought she was going to collapse on us."

Ethel turned from Sybil and approached Mildred.

"Mildred, I don't think Miss Hardbroom should be doing anything strenuous this afternoon. Sybil said she had another funny turn, so do you think you could try and not have her have to sort you out again if you mess up?"

Mildred nodded.

"What did she mean 'mess up'?" Maud said, echoing Ethel's words. She had just come up behind Mildred, followed by a rather muddy and wet Enid and Ruby. Jadu was pristine in comparison. Drusilla was covered head to toe in what could only be described as a mixture of mud and pond slime, wearing a most unimpressed look on what could be seen of her freckly face. Her coppery hair was completely awash with a dark liquid; an extremely unpleasant-smelling substance, caking her straight, neck-length locks like melted chocolate.

"She means my attempt at a spell yesterday afternoon. I tried to turn myself into a newt. I ended up with horrible slimy skin and a half-broken tail. HB had to change me back," Mildred explained.

"You never mentioned **that**, Millie …" Enid teased with a wry smile.

"That's **why **I never mentioned it!" Mildred stressed. "I'm hopeless."

"Of course you're not, and we will all help you, too," Maud soothed.

"Yes. We will," Enid promised her. They all put their hands on Mildred's as if to reassure her.

Mildred grimaced slightly at the mud now smeared on her fingers.

"Gee. Ta for that."

They burst out laughing.

* * *

"Drusilla did **what**?" Amelia asked for the second time.

She, Imogen and Davina were in the staffroom. Imogen was getting geared up ready for lunch duty having insisted on Constance resting as it was her turn.

"Tripped on her laces and went flying down the embankment. Fell headfirst into the pond, stood up, retched on pond gunk and crawled out with Enid and Ruby's help. They lost their grip on her slimy hands – sending **them **hurtling into the mud patch. She slipped straight downwards opposite into the old cesspit from the Hedge Witch Travellers' Association visit four years ago – which, by the way, never bloody drained properly. And **then** banged her head on the puffball fungus plant in it!" Imogen repeated, somewhat frazzled.

"And she's still conscious?" Davina gasped in amazement.

* * *

"She doesn't look good, does she?" Mildred said quietly, eyeing up HB through the potion lab's door window.

Mildred and Ethel had made their way to see Constance before lunchtime in half an hour or so. Enid, Maud and the rest had gone for a quick wash. Drusilla had announced she was going for a long, scorching-hot soak in the bath!

"Do you think we should get Miss Cackle again?" Ethel whispered.

Constance was sitting far back in her chair, eyes closed, breathing deeply and hands clutching her desk. She raised her head.

"Would you kindly desist gawping at me as though I were a waxwork statue and promptly enter the classroom," Constance suddenly snapped sharply, making both girls jump.

Constance opened her eyes as they entered the room, catching the gaze of her two worried-looking pupils. She took a steadying breath.

"Now, advanced transmogrification …" she began, ignoring the pair exchanging nervous glances between them.

* * *

"Millie, how are your potions and spells going?" Maud asked her friend later that evening.

Mildred was sitting in the corner of her room, eyes unfocused, obviously in deep thought after her afternoon session with Ethel and Constance.

"What? Oh, sorry, Maud. Okay, I guess. I never realised just how much cleverer Ethel was. I mean, I knew she was a 'know it all', but I still can't see me winning any of the rounds."

"You'll be fine, besides, I'm sure HB will have you both prepped ready for them," Enid reassured her, glancing at Maud for verbal support.

Just then, Constance appeared in the corridor.

"Lights out in **five minutes**, girls!" she partly shouted, somewhat desperate to retire to bed herself for a change.

"Night, Millie," the two girls chorused. They left Mildred cuddling Tabby, barely noticing that her friends were leaving.

* * *

The next couple of days seemed to go by very quickly. The cross-country run resulted in Drusilla walking around with tissues permanently stuffed up her sleeves thanks to the chill she caught. Every spare moment the girls were spending together, Ethel and Drusilla included, learning and regurgitating to Mildred what they could about potions, transmogrifications, defence spells and duelling.

On Monday, five days before the competition, Mildred and Ethel were in another private tuition lesson with Constance. The normal timetables for the girls had been thoroughly disrupted due to the need to train Mildred and Ethel as much as possible. Of course, Constance was the only teacher with the full knowledge of how to address all three Challenges; hence, she was the one who was chiefly required to deal with her two tired and exasperated pupils. But her insistence on coping with them, along with the rest of her duties, was beginning to grate on the remaining staff's nerves. Amelia, Davina and Imogen tried to carry on as normal, but with little success as Constance's usual firm control of the girls was distinctly absent, resulting in rather unruly classes. Amelia had given up advising Constance to slow down; she didn't think the staffroom door could take any more of Constance's rather physical replies to her concerned objections.

"Honestly, Miss … I just can't see how I can possibly learn this spell …"

"Mildred, look at me. You can – and you will. Confidence, Mildred. It's all about confidence."

Mildred looked up from the book in her hands, closed her eyes and recited a series of words. Within seconds, she had turned into a mixture consisting of half a frog and half a newt.

Constance sighed. "Well, I suppose it is an improvement on a frog combined with a mouse." She waved her hand over her visibly disgruntled pupil, releasing her yet again.

On Tuesday, Ethel had a slight mix up with Mildred over a rather hastily made Invisibility Potion. The resulting predicament, owing to the pair of them managing to get their bodies mixed by accident due to the potion being incorrect, led to Constance having to literally pick up the various reappearing parts and construct the girls back together like a jigsaw puzzle. Constance was continually rolling her eyes and sighing heavily for several minutes.

A little while after Mildred and Ethel were fully in their own bodies once more, they noticed their form mistress had disappeared. This was not overly unusual. Mildred found her a few minutes later having walked straight past earlier as Constance had briefly hidden herself from view. She was sitting on the bench in the small inner courtyard, within Davina's new miniature garden, surrounded by potted plants. Or to be more accurate, leaning back on the bench, eyes closed and face white. Mildred seated herself cautiously next to her, asking if she should fetch Miss Cackle. Constance's reply wasn't exactly cooperative. Mildred gave up after about ten seconds. Constance took herself back inside the potion lab, gritting her teeth in displeasure.

By Wednesday, Mildred and Ethel were now fairly confident at turning themselves into newts, frogs, mice, rats, cats and owls respectively, having suitably developed their skills. Constance had informed them that their opponents would likely have owls as the transmogrifications and would attempt to pit both owls and cats – especially different breeds to show off – against them, so to be able to do both was a bonus.

As for the potions, Mildred had established a rather impressive Advanced Concealment Potion, and Ethel had found that she could create an effective silence of hearing to others with hers.

"I must admit, HB seems to know what she's doing given the suggestions and help she's been giving us for potions and stuff," Ethel mused.

"Hmm …" Mildred found she couldn't disagree. "But … you know, Ethel … I wonder if she knows something we don't?"

As Amelia had said, Wednesday and Thursday would be spent making the castle and Great Hall respectable enough to hold the proceedings. She had informed the school at breakfast that three judges would be attending. Two from the Witchcraft and Wizardry Federation of Magical Excellence, who were both women, and the chairman of the Board of Governors for Cackle's, otherwise known as Ethel and Sybil's father, Mr Hallow.

The castle had been spruced up as much as it was possible to clean a draughty, damp, cobweb-filled and partly dilapidated stone building. On Thursday afternoon, the Great Hall had been decorated throughout with coloured crepe paper, banners and such like. Constance was riled to say the least.

"Headmistress, I really must voice my disapproval at this absurdly garish –"

"Constance, it will encourage the girls into the competition spirit, I'm sure. Besides, they cover up the cracks in the walls."


	5. Chapter 5

**UPDATED: 17****TH**** JANUARY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

* * *

Before they knew it, Friday was upon them – the day before the competition. The whole school was assembled in the entrance hallway ready for the imminent arrival of their guests. They had been warned to be on their best behaviour.

"Ah, Miss Hardbroom …" Amelia smiled at her deputy as she approached. "Is everything ready?"

"Indeed, Headmistress. The Great Hall is now fully prepared, I have added the spectator seating and Mrs Tapioca has prepared a feast in the dining room for our visitors."

"Good, that's very good," Amelia said with a sigh of relief.

"**Will** you girls tidy yourselves UP!"

Amelia jumped as Constance shot a bolt of blue light from her fingertips which bounced off every pupil, straightening their ties as it went.

Constance closed her eyes for a split second and put her left hand against the wall.

Just then, the sound of an owl hooting loudly caught Amelia and Constance's attention.

"I believe they are here," Amelia declared to the crowded entrance.

Before she could open the right-hand side door, it flew inwards and Phyllis Pentangle strode into the hallway, taking off her cloak and shoving it into an open-mouthed Davina's hands. As she released the strings binding its claws, Phyllis's barn owl flew past the girls and banged with a crunch into one of the stone pillars supporting the hallway arches, missing Imogen's head by inches. It then knocked the pointed cone on the end of the staircase banister off, frantically trying to get away.

Constance watched it in wonderment.

"Ah, Cackle, old girl! Damn good of you to join us in this little game. You will know, of course, that the prize is ten thousand pounds, don't you?" Phyllis said in her gruff voice.

"Er … n-no … no, I didn't," Amelia stammered, obviously dropped on.

Phyllis involuntarily raised an eyebrow and bit her bottom lip, then quickly shrugged and said, "Still, I grant you, **you **could use the money more than us …" She deliberately looked around at the various cracks and patches of damp. "But I'm sure we could come to some arrangement after we win. Augusta! Deidre!"

Augusta and Deidre made their way into the hallway, both pushing each other through the door. Following them were eight more girls, each with a vacant look on their faces.

Augusta was very short indeed and sporting a black, neatly cropped hairstyle beneath her hat. And combined with a purple uniform, skinny body and slightly sticking-out ears, she looked like a pixie.

Deidre was rather well-built, with brown hair tied behind her head in a middle parting, chubby hamster cheeks and rather unflatteringly prominent front teeth.

"This is my team – oh – and me and the girls, of course! In the back tower, are we, Amelia? I've sent the bags ahead, dear …" Phyllis nodded her head towards the girls as their cloaks and hats vanished to join the baggage elsewhere in the castle.

Amelia nodded to Phyllis, still somewhat annoyed.

Constance fixed Phyllis with a glare capable of halting a stampede.

"Evening, Constance. Feeling **okay**, are you, dear?" Phyllis enquired with an air of concern.

Constance narrowed her eyes and gave her a questioning stare.

"**Fine**, thank you, Phyllis."

Phyllis smiled slyly and led the small procession towards the dining room, Augusta, Deidre and the rest of the Pentangle's following silently.

"The brass-balled nerve of that … that …"

"Constance, calm down, dear. You are going to be ill again," Amelia said gently.

Constance muttered something under her breath.

"Shall we?" Amelia addressed her girls, lifting up her right hand and gesturing for them to proceed to the dining room.

* * *

Mrs Tapioca ambushed Amelia as she entered. She wrapped her plump arms around her, catching Amelia's skirt with her rather well-used flowery apron.

"Ah, Miss-a Cackle …" she purred, her rosy cheeks shining with delight. "I have-a put on an Italiano surprise! You will like-a, no?"

"Yes, Mrs Tapioca, I'm sure we will," Amelia replied, making her way across the top of the room.

Phyllis was already standing on a chair, waving her arms around with gleeful enthusiasm as if orchestrating a concert.

"May I have your attention, please! Well then, as you all know, we are here to take you on in the **wonderful **Witchcraft and Wizardry Supreme Challenge," she announced. "Or as I call it, the 'Best in Magic' contest! I daresay Amelia has explained to you what is to happen. Starting at eleven o'clock sharp tomorrow, my Augusta will pit her wits against your – er – what's her name … ah yes, Mildred Hubble. Then, at two o'clock sharp, my Deidre will do the same with Miss Ethel Hallow. Then I shall take on Miss Hardbroom at seven o'clock in the evening. Looking forward to that, I must say. Should be fun, eh, Constance?"

Constance was glowering at Phyllis with utter abhorrence on her face.

"Right, I think that is it for now – tuck in!" Phyllis finished.

"Phyllis, being as I am the head of Cackle's, I –"

"Oh, no need to thank me, Amelia. I think I've covered everything we needed to. I say, there is a large plate of cheesecake over there – you'd best get to it before anyone else does!"

Amelia stepped back, reeling inwardly. _That blasted woman!_

* * *

"Constance, are you not eating, dear?" Davina asked softly, concerned by her colleague sipping only a small amount of water. She could even see the concaveness of Constance's stomach by the shape of her dress.

"I am simply not hungry, Davina."

Imogen joined in with her colleague and voiced her previously unsaid thoughts. "But you have to eat. Where else are you going to gather energy from if not food?"

"For the last and **final** time – I am FINE!" Constance huffed and vanished.

"She is so not fine," Mildred muttered, having overheard the entire conversation as she had collected her supper. She sat down at the lengthy wooden table next to Maud and Enid.

"What's that you've got, Millie?" Maud pointed, eyeing up a thin glass phial containing a small amount of black liquid in Mildred's hand.

"Fenny gave it to me – it's a Power Strengthener. She said the Pentangle's are definitely using them, so we should, too."

Ruby was sitting opposite Mildred, looking at the phial questioningly. "But isn't that cheating?"

"I suppose technically, but Fenny saw Augusta and Deidre not long after they arrived in the toilets drinking a few to psych them up a bit," Mildred said, trying to convince them of her argument.

"Millie, I'm not sure you should be drinking that, I mean – what if you're caught?" Maud said worriedly as Jadu nodded in agreement, unable to speak as she had a mouthful of food.

"Well, they have, why shouldn't I? If I don't take some as well, then I will definitely lose!" Mildred uncorked and put the phial to her lips. She swallowed the contents in one gulp, becoming instantly aware something was **very** wrong.

"Mil, what is it?" Maud began to speak, noticing the immediate change in her friend.

Enid looked at Mildred, catching the dropped and rolling phial on the cloth-covered tabletop. "Oh my …"

Mildred had turned an alarming shade of white. She was starting to shake violently …

"I feel … I can't … b-breathe …" Mildred tried to stand. She fell back to the floor. Maud quickly jumped down and took hold of her, sitting her upright.

"MISS CACKLE!" Enid shouted. "MILDRED CAN'T BREATHE!"

"Mildred …? Enid, she WHAT?"

Amelia quickly made her way down to them. By this point, Mildred's lips were beginning lose their pinkness. She was struggling for every breath, clutching her chest.

"CONSTANCE!" Amelia practically screamed into the air. She appeared before Amelia even finished her name.

"Is she choking?" Constance gasped, rushing over to Mildred, urgent concern in her voice.

Enid handed the empty phial to her. "No, Miss. She was fine before she drank this."

The deputy sniffed it cautiously. "Oh …" Constance's eyes widened in terror. "Amelia, Maud – keep her awake – keep her **breathing** – DO NOT let her close her eyes. I shall be back." She glanced once more at Mildred and vanished.

The dining area was almost silent except for the two tables with the Pentangle's girls on them; everyone else was enraptured in the drama unfolding. Phyllis was sitting with her girls, deep in conversation with Augusta and Deidre. She didn't seem to have noticed what was happening at the opposite end of the room.

Imogen and Davina were rapidly making their way to the commotion, aware Amelia would never scream for Constance like that without a **very **good reason.

"What's happ—?" They skidded to a halt, not believing what they were seeing.

"Mildred – Mildred, don't close your eyes – just concentrate on breathing slowly," Amelia urged her pupil; her voice had a very obvious marked anxiety. Mildred was now lying on the floor, her head against her headmistress's lap. Maud was holding Mildred's hand.

"Millie, don't you dare shut those eyes, you hear me!" Maud said loudly, squeezing Mildred's fingers tightly.

"Davina, Imogen – I want everyone out of here RIGHT NOW!" Amelia ordered, raising her eyebrows at her staff.

"ATTENTION, GIRLS! EVERYONE IS TO LEAVE THIS ROOM IMMEDIATELY!" Imogen bellowed.

Davina clapped her hands to re-enforce the point. "Come on, you lot – OUT!"

Phyllis finally noticed the kafuffle at the other end of the room. "I say, what's going on?" She stood up and moved forwards a pace to take a better look.

Davina approached Phyllis, shooing some of the still-remaining pupils in the process.

"Mildred is very ill. We don't know what's wrong, but she cannot breathe. Miss Cackle wants everybody out."

Phyllis flicked her head around. "Right! Come on, girls – out you go." She turned back to the chanting teacher. "Is there anything I can do, Davina?"

"I think Constance has gone to fetch a potion or something," Davina said, shrugging.

"In which case, girls, off to bed with you!" Phyllis addressed her pupils. "Take your plates if you wish, you are in the back tower, off you go …"

Phyllis pointed the girls in the right direction and made her way down the room. The girls continued to walk out in single file, not even bothering to look over towards the commotion.

"Miss Hardbroom!" Maud jumped automatically as Constance reappeared out of thin air.

"Amelia, sit her up. Mildred …" Constance knelt down to her pupil, "you have to drink and fully swallow this – I need you to take the deepest breath you can," she told her quickly.

Mildred was now very light-headed and exhausted by the lack of oxygen in her bloodstream; she just wanted to drift off to sleep …

"MILDRED HUBBLE!" Constance roared at the top of her voice. "You will NOT go to sleep on me; I am ORDERING you to swallow this! MILDRED – OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK AT ME!" Constance was staring directly at Mildred, her face frozen in fear.

Mildred opened her eyes and took the biggest draw of air she could manage as Constance poured the contents of a small phial, filled almost to capacity with fluorescent white liquid, into her mouth.

"Good girl, that's it, swallow it down," Constance encouraged her, gently tilting Mildred's head back to aid her as she gulped the fluid down.

Mildred coughed and spluttered a bit, but the liquid made its way down into her system. Almost instantaneously, she found she could take a full breath.

"I … I …" she gasped. "W-what **was** t-that? … I c-couldn't b-breathe … my vision … w-was blurry … I …" Mildred trailed off, tears springing to her face as she caught her breath.

Maud and Enid took hold of her as Amelia turned her attention to Constance, now knelt and leaning against a chair, her eyes closed and face ashen.

"Constance … I –"

"I need a word – in private – immediately!" Constance requested, opening her own and looking Amelia directly in the eyes. "Maud, Enid – get Mildred into her bed. I will see her shortly," she added.

Phyllis approached Amelia, walking past Constance, Imogen and Davina. Constance stood up, suddenly becoming violently dizzy.

"Imogen!" Davina called out quickly, grasping Constance's arm and waist as she swooned.

Davina and Imogen pushed her speedily onto a chair. Imogen knelt down at one side of her, placing her fingers on Constance's wrist, leaving Davina to rapidly fan Constance's face with her hand, supporting the back of her head at the other side. Initially too unsteady to move, Constance kept her eyes closed, waiting for it to ease. Imogen met Davina's deeply troubled gaze. Realising they still had a hold of her, Constance took a deep breath and abruptly shrugged off Davina and Imogens's assistance, scowling in irritation.

"Constance, I **really **think we should get you to bed," Davina said resolutely.

Constance drew another slow, deep breath, clasping her hand to her forehead and resting her elbow on the back of the chair.

"Davina, if I have to tell you I am perfectly fine just once more …"

Davina rolled her eyes; she knew it was pointless arguing the toss when Constance was adamant there was nothing wrong.

Constance raised her head after a few minutes, glancing around in alarm. She espied Maud walking towards their table to collect Mildred's recently worn-out _Popular Book of Spells._ She beckoned her over.

"Is she in bed?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Would you care to elaborate swiftly on what exactly happened, please?"

Maud explained what Mildred had told them.

"Miss …? Are you **okay**?"

Constance had closed her eyes, turning wan once again. She cleared her throat and looked at her pupil.

"I … am fine, thank you, Maud. I suggest you instruct everyone else to take their food up to their rooms."

Muttering under her breath, Constance stood, steadying herself. The three teachers began making their way to Amelia, passing the girls still loitering in the corridor and a flustered-looking Mrs Tapioca, who was scratching her flowery cap and had a puzzled expression on her face. Davina was watching Constance like a hawk as she led the way, noting with unease how Constance put her hand on the wall every now and then.

* * *

Constance, Davina and Imogen entered the staffroom.

Constance was momentarily taken aback at Phyllis already in there with Amelia, both seemingly drinking black coffee. She glared at her.

"Where are the girls?" Amelia asked, looking up.

"We told them to get their food and take it to their rooms as most had not finished," Imogen informed her.

Phyllis was sitting opposite Amelia in the flowery armchair by the fireplace.

"Miss Pentangle, if you wouldn't mind, I should like to talk to my colleagues – alone," Constance said firmly. She wasn't asking for her permission.

Phyllis reluctantly got up. "I shall wait outside, Amelia; we still have matters to discuss."

She turned to leave and closed the door behind her. Constance twitched her fingers and locked it.

"Headmistress, we **have** to cancel this competition. Maud told me Mildred drank the stuff to make herself stronger for the Challenges. Fenella Feverfew gave it to her having apparently seen Miss Brothbottle and Miss Swoop take some to aid their powers. It was spiked with a deadly potion. I do not have time to explain the details. The fact remains a few minutes longer she would have **died**. It was a deliberate attempt on her life."

"Oh, come **on**. Surely you're not suggesting that someone would seriously try and kill Mildred?" Amelia raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"How else would you explain it? What if Ethel had drunk some, too? There was not enough time to create two remedies; one of them would have CERTAINLY DIED!" Constance was virtually shouting.

Imogen and Davina had been silent up to this point.

"I think Constance is right, Miss Cackle," Imogen said quietly.

Just then, Phyllis knocked on the door. "Amelia, we really do have things to discuss!"

"Ladies, I should like to see Phyllis if you would not mind and –"

"Headmistress, I really do not think there is anything further to discu—"

"Constance – **I** will deal with this!" Amelia snapped at her deputy.

Constance looked at her, somewhat perplexed. She huffed in temper, aiming her right hand at the door: it flung open to reveal Phyllis bending down; obviously she had been trying to listen through the keyhole.

Constance, Davina and Imogen walked out of the room.

Some twenty-five minutes later, Phyllis emerged, looking distinctly smug. The three staff were waiting outside.

Imogen was staring at Constance. Constance was sheet white, trembling slightly and gripping the wall with her left hand. She looked as though she was about to vomit.

"Constance … are you **okay**? You look like you've seen a ghost …"

Constance closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed.

"Fine … thank you, Imogen."

They re-entered, having just come back from checking that all the girls were in bed and staying there. Well, almost all the girls. Constance had escorted Maud, Enid, Ruby, Jadu, Ethel and a violently sneezing Drusilla from Mildred's room. Constance then removed the plates by 'zapping' them to the kitchen as requested by Imogen. She had then disappeared for a good fifteen minutes before rejoining them.

"Well?" the three staff enquired together.

"Really, ladies, I think we are kicking this out of proportion. The competition will go ahead as planned."

"But … Headmistress –"

"I have made my decision, Constance, and that is final. I should like to remind you that **I **am in charge here and that is the end of the matter, so would you kindly drop the subject!" Amelia retorted sharply.

Imogen and Davina exchanged astonished glances. Amelia had **never **spoken to Constance like that. Ever.

Constance stared at Amelia for a moment, nodded slightly, then turned and walked out, slamming the rocky door behind her.

* * *

"Mildred, may I come in?" Constance asked almost inaudibly, knocking lightly on Mildred's door.

"Oh … er … yes, Miss Hardbroom."

Constance entered the room, closing and magically locking the door behind her. She twitched her fingers towards the hanging candle lantern on the wall: it lit and brightened up the fairly dark room. Mildred's bats Winky, Blinky and Nod chirped an objection to the light and flew out of the half-open window shutters.

"Mildred, how are you feeling?"

"Um … okay, I think. My chest is still a little tender. Miss … I … I'm sorry about the potion. I just … I didn't want to let the school down …"

Mildred started to cry. Constance took a clean tissue from her sleeve and handed it to her. She sat on her bed.

"Mildred, I need to ask you a question. What did you drop on my head in your second year here?"

Mildred looked at her with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment on her face.

"I – er – a fire bucket."

Constance sighed and closed her eyes for a brief second.

"Mildred …" Constance said slowly, looking at her eye to eye. "What happened tonight … I think you realise the severity of it."

Mildred sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"Did you notice anything strange about Fenella Feverfew's behaviour this evening?"

"Well, now you mention it – she was very keen on making sure I took the potion."

"I see. Mildred, I have something extremely important to tell … and … to ask you and you have to listen to me very carefully …"

Mildred stared at her form mistress.

"I believe there is something occurring … and … I'm not entirely sure what. But if it is what I think, then I am going to need your help …"


	6. Chapter 6

**UPDATED: 18****TH**** JANUARY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 6**

* * *

Saturday. The day had dawned. Mildred was sitting at the breakfast table, staring at her porridge which had been congealing for the last twenty minutes and absent-mindedly running her fingers against the grooves and scratches on the dark tabletop.

Maud quietly approached, and Mildred jumped slightly.

"Are you okay, Millie? You still thinking about last night?"

"What? Sorry, I was miles away …"

"She's nervous, that's all," Enid said as she joined them. She was followed by Ruby and Jadu.

Jadu was just finishing affixing a hair clip at the right side of her head. "Trust Mil to have an allergic reaction to a potion!" She folded her arms in amusement.

"HB said she'd be all right, though … but I bet she's pretty peeved with Fenny," Ruby said, relieved she wasn't in Fenella's shoes.

"How is Drusilla?" Enid asked loudly, eyeing Ethel approaching.

"She's still stuffed with flu! I think Miss Bat has knocked her out as she couldn't stop sneezing."

"You'll be fine," Maud soothed. "And besides, HB is on hand to make sure things run safely."

Mildred wasn't listening; she was still reeling from the previous night's conversation.

* * *

At eleven o'clock exactly the school and their guests assembled in the Great Hall. All the Cackle's girls were dressed in their black cloaks over their grey short-sleeved shirts, grey-and-black striped ties and black gymslips. Each girl's waist was encircled by a neatly tied, colour-coded sash, and their uniforms smartly finished with their regulation grey knee socks and black hobnailed leather boots, which they had polished to perfection for the occasion.

At the top of the Great Hall, the small, two-stepped black stage featured two long wooden tables, the dark wood of which had been given the same treatment as the girls' boots. The impressively sized organ had been magically flattened against the wall beneath the school's emblem flag, making it as thin as a sheet of paper, creating extra room for the tables and for two identical two-tiered standing candelabras behind them, currently unlit with numerous large candles a piece. To the right, looking up from the bottom of the room, and partly obscuring the stained-glass window, was the teachers' table.

Seated on the facing left end was firstly Amelia, wearing her very best black cloak, a black calf-length skirt, vintage in design and made from crushed velvet, black silk blouse and sparkling black-sequined court shoes. Her plump figure was emphasised considerably due to her blouse being tightly tucked in at the waist. Her chin-length, middle-parted hair was pushed behind her ears, the silvery-grey locks looking as if they had been brushed several times too many, and glasses sitting upon her head as usual.

Imogen was stylishly dressed – and not in a tracksuit, for once. Instead, she was wearing a white polyester suit jacket, smart green blouse and matching white trousers, with her wispy, cropped blond hair gelled to one side. Of course, she was still in her blue-and-red striped trainers.

Davina, complete with her orchestration baton in her bird's-nest hair and small, round reading glasses on the end of her nose, had her best frilly black gown on. Her cloak was on the back of her chair. She was sitting cross-legged and nonchalantly fiddling with her fingerless black lace gloves. Under the table, she had taken off her black slip-on shoes and was wiggling her toes through the small holes in her stockings.

And finally, Constance. Her hair was scraped back into her high bun and her face lacking her usual English rose-style of make-up, with exception to a thin layer of red lipstick. She was wearing her neck-to-ankle, flower-embroidered, black satin dress and black leather boots, making it blindingly obvious how very thin she was.

Phyllis was flamboyantly covered head to foot in purple, just like her pupils – her school's colours. It was hard to tell where her cloak ended and her dress began, even her tights and shoes were purple. Her fringed, thick blonde bob was rather messy, drawing attention to her fairly pronounced nose. Her large, rounded in shape, tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses were sitting very close to her brow. And around her neck was a silver chain, supporting a large, oval black locket. She was performing a spell on the small wooden podium, placed in the centre of the two tables.

On the left table at the opposite side of them were seated the judges, all professionally clutching clipboards and pens, feverishly ready to begin scoring.

Mr William J. Hallow was the first in line. A thin and fairly tall man, with styled blonde, grey-streaked hair. He was wearing a rather insipid beige suit, black shirt, pink tie and shiny black shoes.

Then, along from his right, was a Miss Petronella Pygmy, a very short, stout woman with wiry black hair tied in a French plait. She was clad in a grey-blue sleeveless dress, so plain and square in design it seemed to further decrease her already greatly apparent lack of height. Underneath her dress she was modestly covered by a cream blouse, long-sleeved with lacy cuffs, adorned by an antique cameo on the collar fastening, and her reddened, tight-covered feet were stuffed into blue sandals which looked more like thin ropes binding her skin into bulging sausages.

And lastly, next to her, a Mrs Margot Eunice Copperhead. Tall, with long and curly ginger hair, clipped up with a green bow. She was dressed in a burgundy leather jacket which clashed rather badly with her hair colour. Coupled together with a yellow shirt, orange corduroy trousers and grass-green snakeskin pointed shoes, she looked like a lizard.

They had arrived early that morning. At the bottom end of the Great Hall were the pupils, seated in stadium fashion. The primitive, old-fashioned oak chairs had been transformed into plastic seats. They had been magically tiered higher towards the back, with small steps at the sides, positioned at either side of the double doors.

Phyllis cleared her throat, stood upon the now-heightened podium and addressed the room.

"Welcome. Welcome everyone on this splendid day! The time has come for our feat to commence! The moment we have all been waiting for has arrived. The Witchcraft and Wizardry Supreme Challenge! I am sure this will be a day to remember for a **long **time to come. Now then, will Mildred and Augusta please step forward to the two tables."

Two tables appeared several feet apart in the centre of the room. The lengthy benches were from the potion lab, facing away from each other, featuring an inordinate amount of various herbs and flower heads, plus snotgobbles, silverweed, hemlock, stinging nettles, mustard seeds, pond slime and electric eel tails to name but a few. Amongst all the ingredients and potion-making implements on each table was a single black cauldron, above which was a matching black tripod with a hook in the centre, latched onto each cauldron's triple-chain handle, holding the heavy pots in place above the pronged burners beneath, ready and waiting to be magically ignited if heat was required, rather than going to the trouble of supplying the gas to them.

Mildred and Augusta made their way from their seats to the tables as instructed.

Mildred placed herself by the desk in front of the teachers' table.

"Girls, you are to make a potion of your own devices. You have to use what you have learned from your textbook studies – no cheating with a hidden potion book! Whoever makes the best potion wins, it is as simple as that. You may now begin. Amelia, Mr Hallow, Miss Pygmy and Mrs Copperhead – would you care to join me?" Phyllis finished her speech, unaware that Constance was staring at her.

Phyllis, Amelia, Mr Hallow and his colleagues made their way down to the tables, the latter three still eagerly holding on to their clipboards.

Augusta was muttering under her breath.

Mildred looked terrified. She looked up at Miss Hardbroom. Constance half-smiled at her and nodded slightly.

The time seemed to elapse at an accelerated rate.

"Five minutes left, girls," Phyllis informed them. "Then time to test your potions!"

"I'm finished!" Augusta announced proudly some three minutes later.

"Mildred, are you ready?" Amelia addressed her flatly.

"Almost …" Mildred said, praying her potion would work.

"Very well, girls. You may now test your potions in turn," Amelia spoke again. Her face appeared rather blank and uninterested.

Augusta immediately poured a small amount of her potion, a neon-blue liquid, into a glass beaker. It was opaque, slushy in consistency and looked like food-coloured snow. She swallowed it. Her body seemed to blur for a few moments before she turned into a sparkling sculpture of ice.

The room applauded with the Pentangle's leading the applause.

"Hmm, not bad." Phyllis smirked, smiling slyly as Augusta reappeared. "Mildred, your turn."

Mildred poured a very small amount of her own concoction, orangey-scarlet in colour and goopy like molten lava.

"Stand back," she advised to the watching group. She swallowed the liquid, started to crackle and turned into a blazing ball of fire!

The room erupted in a mixture of cheering and clapping.

"WAY TO GO, MILLIE!"

"RIGHT ON, HUBBLE!"

"ATTAGIRL!"

"Well," Mr Hallow said slowly, looking at Miss Pygmy then to Mrs Copperhead. "I think it is fair to say that Mildred's is certainly the more impressive of the two." His colleagues finished their mutual scribbling and nodded in agreement. "This round is Mildred's!" he declared.

Another raging round of applause hit the Great Hall.

Mildred smiled as her full, completely undamaged body rematerialised. She took a deep, cleansing breath. _One down, two to go …_

"Now then …" Phyllis began as the tables were removed. "Transmogrification time. As you all know," she addressed the entire room, "witches generally transmogrify others, not themselves. It is, however, possible to transmogrify oneself, provided that someone can reverse the process. Unless, of course, they happen to have a phial of All-Purpose Reversal Potion nearby, being as how most cats cannot read a spell book."

Phyllis laughed at this. The room was uncomfortably silent. She cleared her throat.

"Girls, I want you to stand in front of each other, facing away from each other, just behind the black lines."

They did as requested, Mildred going to the far right behind the barrier line which had appeared on the wooden floorboards and Augusta to the left, making them about ten feet apart. Maud moved in her seat, taking a closer look at Mildred's right side profile and chuckling to herself. Mildred, typically, was chewing a strand of loose hair from her growing fringe.

"In a moment, girls, you will both have a magic wall around you. You will then transmogrify yourselves into your chosen creature and turn to face each other."

Phyllis stepped back and stood alongside Amelia.

"Ready, Amelia?"

"Ready, Phyllis."

Both headmistresses raised their hands in the air and a shot of yellow light from each surrounded the two girls in a cylindrical shape _–_ creating a cylinder of silence, so as to prevent either hearing their respective enchantments.

"You may begin," Phyllis and Amelia prompted simultaneously.

Augusta was fairly quick off the mark. She seemed to be uttering words very hurriedly, though, of course, no one could hear what was being said.

Mildred was very still, deep in thought. Closing her eyes she began to chant.

Seconds later, in Augusta's space appeared a beautiful eagle owl. In Mildred's space there was an equally striking Siamese cat. With a wave of her hand, Phyllis removed the barriers and the two girls turned to face each other.

_Oh, great! _Mildred thought, swishing her tail. _An eagle owl – I won't top that!_

"Well, Miss Cackle …" Miss Pygmy began, looking from one pupil to the other, "I would say both are equally accomplished. I suggest a mutual point score."

Mildred could scarcely believe her ears – she was in the lead! She turned to view the crowd of clapping and squealing pupils, spotting Maud and Enid grinning at her.

Amelia waved her hand over Mildred as Phyllis did the same for Augusta to remove the spells.

"A little break before the third Challenge, Amelia?" Phyllis asked the bored-looking headmistress.

"Indeed, Phyllis," Amelia replied expressionlessly.

Phyllis waved her hand again and a large table of blackcurrant juice and biscuits appeared at the end of the Hall in front of the seated pupils, and several additional glasses of juice and biscuits appeared on the judges' and teachers' tables.

"Help yourselves, everyone. We shall reconvene in ten minutes' time."

Mildred wasn't thirsty; she beckoned Maud, Enid and Ethel over to her.

"I have to hand it to you, Mildred – that was pretty good … for you," Ethel admitted quietly, almost smiling at Mildred.

They spoke for a number of minutes discussing Ethel's strategy, while Mildred untied her hair and put on her cloak and hat.

Phyllis started to speak. "Right, back to your places everyone, please!" The tables and refreshments vanished as she flicked her wrists.

Maud sighed. "We never got a drink, did we …?"

Mildred looked over again at Miss Hardbroom. Constance had her eyes shut and was clenching the table. Mildred was about to go to her when Phyllis came and stood in front of her.

"Ah, Mildred, my dear – you're rather talented, aren't you? Damn good job that potion wasn't effective, isn't it?"

Mildred forced a smile, glaring at Phyllis as she walked away. She then glanced again at HB. Constance now had her eyes open, her face very pale. She looked at Mildred and then to Maud, Enid and Ethel. Mildred shook her head slightly. Constance gave her a weak smile and nodded ever so softly.

Phyllis approached the podium and climbed up.

"Now then, the time has come for the main part of this morning's _–_ or should I now say afternoon's _–_ competing team. Mildred and Augusta, you will again stand behind the lines on the floor and under no circumstances do you cross them. You will face each other."

Mildred once again stood directly in front of the teachers' table.

"On my count of three you will cast your enchantments at each other until one of you is defeated. There are to be absolutely **no **spells aimed above the chest – is that perfectly understood?" Phyllis fixed her gaze on Mildred then Augusta.

"Yes, Miss Pentangle," they chorused together.

"On my count, then. One … two … three!"

Augusta was the first to cast her enchantment, ironically the Nettle-Sting Spell. Mildred recognised the chant and immediately began a counter curse to protect herself. Aware of what Mildred was doing, Augusta aimed her spell fingers at Mildred. From Augusta's fingertips shot two brilliant fuchsia rays of light. They hit Mildred at speed, causing her to stagger as her legs turned to jelly. She dropped to the floor, sat upright and aimed at Augusta with a jet of blue light: Augusta was now on the floor – her legs had disappeared completely. Speedily uttering an incantation, Augusta removed Mildred's spell, while Mildred was simultaneously removing Augusta's as fast as she possibly could. Mildred stood up and Augusta followed. Mildred then sent the Feather-Tickle Spell at Augusta, who used the Reflection Charm against it. Mildred was rendered on the floor, half laughing and half crying as her body tingled, frantically trying to remove the spell. Augusta attempted to aim another bolt, but Mildred was quicker. She stood up and shot a stream of red at Augusta: Augusta scratched furiously as the Itching Powder Spell took effect. Mildred aimed towards Augusta's feet as Augusta removed the previous enchantment, simultaneously sending a bolt of orange at Mildred. Mildred in turn quickly used the Shield Charm and blocked it. Mildred then fired another jet: Augusta stumbled as the Crab-Claw-Grip Spell hit her toe. She hurled a bolt of yellow at Mildred, who yelped as the Wasp-Sting Spell hit her right leg, burning into her muscle. Mildred sent back with a vengeance the Python Charm which instantly immobilised her opponent, wrapping her up within a semi-transparent snake. Augusta quickly mentally performed a reversal incantation …

"Now you're **really** pissing me off!" Augusta hissed with venom under her breath.

Mildred was about to aim another spell when Augusta blasted her with a bolt of violet light. Mildred fell straight back to the floor _– _her entire body was stuck to the ground.

"I believe we have a winner!" Phyllis announced confidently to the Great Hall.

Amelia and Phyllis immediately moved towards both girls. Amelia removed Augusta's spell from Mildred, who looked rather white in colour and shaken up.

Mr Hallow, Miss Pygmy and Mrs Copperhead made their way down to the group.

"So, we are agreed that Augusta had beaten Mildred by …" Mr Hallow began, taking out the calculator they had been using to double-check the scores gained based on the various values of what the girls had produced. "Only fifteen points in it. Well done anyway, Mildred, a very good attempt." He smiled at her kindly, and then turned his attention to Augusta and Phyllis. "Well done, Augusta. You beat Mildred and that places Pentangle's in the lead, but only by fifteen points, mind!"

"Miss Cackle?" Mildred addressed her headmistress. "Could I go lie down, please? I don't feel so well."

"Yes, that will be fine," Amelia answered, not even turning to look at her pupil.

Mildred chanced a glance at HB, who looked even paler than before if that was possible.

Constance again nodded ever so slightly, sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.

Mildred made her way to Maud, Enid and Ethel.

"Good luck, Ethel. I'm sure you'll do tons better than me." Mildred smiled at her.

"Mildred, I never thought I'd say this, but you were bloody fantastic up there," Ethel confessed, blushing rather a lot.

Maud and Enid looked at each other. _Ethel Hallow complementing Mildred? She really is desperate to uphold her family name!_

Mildred cleared her throat. "I'm going for a lie down. Will you all come and see me after Ethel's turn?"

"Yeah … um … sure, Millie … but don't you want to watch Ethel compete?" Maud asked, feeling somewhat puzzled.

"Er … I think I had better lie down. And besides, Ethel will do great. I know she will."

Mildred turned and left the Great Hall, making her way to her bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

**UPDATED: 18****TH**** JANUARY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 7**

* * *

"Constance, are you all right? You've not spoken since the start of the competition."

"Imogen, I am **fine** for the last and final time."

Constance glanced at Davina. She appeared to have nodded off.

"Girls, girls, may I have your attention for a moment? Thank you. It is now lunchtime, so could you all please come to the middle of the room and take your places at the tables." Phyllis flicked her wrists: in the centre of the room eight long tables appeared, covered with tablecloths and buffet-style food, along with adequate plates and cutlery. Ample chairs materialised along the edges and each seat had a glass of blackcurrant juice. The girls took their places and settled down to eat.

Constance got up from her seat as the teachers' table became awash with its own refreshments and condiments. She made her way out of the Great Hall, pausing slightly by the table where Maud, Enid and Ethel were sitting as she left. Ruby and Jadu spotted them and made their way over.

"Do you think Millie **is **okay?" Maud asked Enid worriedly.

"She will be," Enid replied matter-of-factly, reaching for her glass of juice. "Eruughh!" She instantly spat out the contents from her mouth back into the glass. "That tastes vile."

Maud and Ethel sniffed theirs and tentatively took a sip. They also spat theirs out.

"Mine, too," Maud grimaced, swallowing bitterly and scraping her tongue inside her mouth.

"And mine," Ethel added with a revolted expression.

"Think there is any other juice left?" Maud said, looking around. "I haven't had a drink since this morning."

Ruby and Jadu sniffed and sipped theirs.

Ruby shrugged. "Mine's okay …"

"Mine is, too," Jadu said, placing her glass down alongside Ruby's. "Weird."

"Want to share ours?" Ruby asked, she and Jadu pointing at their drinks.

"No, it's okay, thanks. I will get a jug of water for us," Maud told them, still trying to rid her mouth of the foul taste.

After lunch the area was cleared again and the girls retook their places in the makeshift stadium. Ethel took her place in the centre with Deidre Swoop.

"Let the second battle commence!" Phyllis announced to the Great Hall.

* * *

Mildred was in her bedroom, pacing up and down more and more quickly.

"I can't take this much longer …" she muttered to Tabby. Her mind was racing.

Tabby yawned, glanced lazily at his mistress and curled up to go back to sleep.

Mildred sank down onto her bed, counting the seconds turning into minutes. After nearly an hour she began to pace again.

* * *

Phyllis was applauding her pupil with rapture. "Oh, Deidre – well **done**! Good girl – show her who is boss!"

Deidre had managed to turn herself into a sleek Abyssinian cat – a most complex spell. Ethel was a crested owl.

"Hmm … I think Deidre may have the edge here, Mr Hallow," Mrs Copperhead said, almost apologetically.

"I'm afraid I have to concur with Mrs Copperhead," Miss Pygmy added.

Ethel hooted in disgust.

* * *

"Mildred?"

Mildred rushed forwards and opened her door, revealing her frightened face, surrounded by an obsessively ordered room, having gone from pacing to tidying for something to do other than lose her – for now – controlled state of mind.

Constance entered. She beckoned Mildred to sit down with her on the bed.

"You've done really well, Mildred. Things are maintaining their course like we hoped. Are they coming straight after Ethel's turn?"

"Yes."

Constance nodded. "Good. You know what to do?"

Mildred swallowed and nodded. She rose up, walked over to the window and gazed out of the half-open rusty-red shutters, leaning on her small desk beneath the window.

"What if something goes wrong?"

"It is a risk I … **we must** take, Mildred."

Mildred walked back over to the bed, watching Constance with apprehension.

Constance looked back at her. "Don't worry. It will work out all right," she said reassuringly. She put her right hand to her head for a moment, shaking it slightly. Mildred stared at her ominously.

Constance took a deep breath, breathing out slowly and trying not to let her pupil notice her trembling limbs.

"I have to go before I am missed." Constance stood unsteadily, walked a few paces, took a small gasp and fell sideways against the wall by the door.

Mildred raced over and grabbed her just in time as her teacher slumped in her arms. Struggling a little under her tallness and weight, she managed to turn and lay Constance down softly on the wooden floor.

"Please, please wake up, **please** …"

Mildred was desperately trying not to panic as Constance failed to open her eyes when she shook her teacher gently on the shoulder. She knelt down next to her unresponsive form mistress, taking the pillow from her bed and placing it under her head. Dragging her grey blankets from the mattress, she covered Constance with them to keep her visibly cold body warm. She sat close beside her for some twenty minutes with her hand on Constance's icy wrist, having established in enormous relief she was still breathing.

Constance gradually opened her eyes and eventually focused on Mildred's anxious face.

Mildred looked at her fearfully. "How much more can you **stand **of this?"

Constance drew a deep, shaky breath, feeling extremely woozy.

"Mildred … it won't be long now …" she said faintly, closing her eyes again briefly.

"But you … you can't … please … **please don't **…"

Constance took another deep breath and met Mildred's eyes.

"Mildred – listen to me **very** carefully. I can – and **will** – compete against her tonight … and … and you **must **do everything as I said. **Exactly **as I said," she ordered firmly. She pushed off the blankets, pulled herself up using Mildred's arm and the metal bedstead as a stabiliser and faced Mildred.

Mildred swallowed firmly as she gazed into her teacher's dark eyes.

"I … **we** … are counting on you." Constance hesitated for a second, turned and left.

Mildred watched her go. Constance's hand was leaning against the wall.

A lump was burning hot in Mildred's throat.

* * *

"And so, although Miss Swoop put up an admirable fight, Miss Hallow has beaten her, thus bringing the current total point score to two hundred and sixty for each school," Mrs Copperhead finished.

A cheer erupted from the pupils.

"Now, now, there is still the matter of Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle's duel to contend with, and that could change everything," Mr Hallow informed them.

Phyllis climbed up and stood on the podium, wearing a wide grin on her face.

"It is almost four o'clock, girls. We will have supper at five o'clock and reconvene for the duel – commencing at seven o'clock sharp!"

The relieved pupils headed out of the Great Hall, making their way outside for some fresh air. Ethel's final Putrification Spell had certainly done its job. The girls scurried past the swamp-slime-soaked Deidre as she went for another wash, despite her headmistress's earlier attempts to clean her cloak. Ethel had been rather overenthusiastic with her chanting.

Maud, Enid and Ethel went straight to Mildred's room.

"Millie, it's us," Enid said, knocking lightly.

Mildred opened the door and ushered them in quickly, locking it after them.

"I won!" Ethel bragged, clearly very pleased with herself. "And –"

Mildred cut in. "Maud – what was the first name I was going to call my cat before I got Tabs?"

Maud looked at her astonished.

"Um … Sooty, wasn't it?"

"Enid – which song did you sing that I laughed at?" Mildred carried on; completely ignoring the strange looks directed towards her as she quick-fired her questions.

Enid glanced at Maud and Ethel completely bemused.

"Er … Eye of Toad …"

"Ethel – what did I call Sybil that made you angry?" Mildred asked, avoiding her eyes.

Ethel looked momentarily confused.

"A weed," she replied, slightly annoyed.

Mildred recited a spell under her breath. Seconds later, a silent barricade of light encircled her room briefly, vanishing as quickly as it came. The girls stared at her in amazement.

Mildred looked at them. "It's for our protection." She took a deep breath. "I need you to all sit down and not speak until I have finished."

Fifteen minutes later, Maud finally broke the shocked silence.

"Millie, you're mad – what if something goes wrong? What if someone's **really** hurt?" Maud said, genuine fear in her voice.

The others chipped in.

"Mildred, I cannot believe she would have you do this. Was there no other way?" Ethel added, sounding as apprehensive as Maud.

"Mil, really – it's insane!" Enid said, concurring with the other two and looking at Mildred as though she was crazy to even consider what she had just told them.

Mildred's head was swimming; she had expected this, but thought Maud and Enid, at the very least, would trust her enough to understand her predicament and not question her actions.

"Listen to me. I **have** to do this and this was the **only** way. I need your help. **We** need your help. Please … help me …"

None of the girls felt like eating at suppertime. They stayed together in Mildred's room. Ruby and Jadu, a little later that afternoon, knocked on Mildred's door, wondering where they all were. Ethel shouted through the gap beneath and told them Mildred wasn't feeling well and that they weren't really hungry. Ruby huffed and stomped off in temper, leaving Jadu mystified with the lot of them!

* * *

The large, sumptuously carved antique grandfather clock in the staffroom chimed 6.45 p.m. Constance could hear it echoing quite clearly from her quarters, despite the distance.

_The damn contraption! _she thought, thoroughly irritated.

It was unsurprisingly typical of Davina to have brought such a consistently bothersome device back from her latest trip to Inner (or rather **Outer**) Mongolia, as Imogen had once again pointed out.

_Not that she could simply return with a small memento of her visit. No, she had to bring back that useless article. Not to mention the fact she bought it at a market stall with a BRITISH trader! _

Every fifteen minutes a joint sequence ensued, the cuckooing of the old clock and the clamorous, grating clanging of the new. And then the hourly numeric's from both to boot!

Constance was sitting on her bed, her mind profoundly focused on what was almost certain to be occurring in a very short space of time. She was wearing her duelling dress, the first occasion she had actually had to put it on. Although purchased years ago, it still fit, albeit distinctly looser than before. A long and extremely elegant black gown, consisting of lined silk, with very long arms which widened outwards at the ends of her wrists. It was double buttoned in design on each side at the front, the right-hand side zipper obscured by a thin stream of patterned silk, which led from her waist upwards and cut asymmetrically across her chest, leading to an embroidered mandarin collar which ended partially up her neck. The full length of the gown reached to her ankles, with a slit to allow movement at the left-hand side, and underneath she was wearing black stockings, the ends covered by a pair of dainty heeled shoes, made from black suede. Her long and beautifully soft brunette hair was down by her waist, as was the tradition.

She raised her head a little and gradually looked around her room, eyes wide, as if wanting to take in and savour every detail. Morgana was asleep on the deep-blue blankets draped over her bed. She stroked the top of her head for a few moments, looking up at three baby bats swinging happily upside-down on her polished ebony curtain rail above the window. The matching blue velour curtains were drawn against the streams of light from the lowering sun, creating a hue of colour like a tropical ocean around the whitewashed walls. The grey stone fireplace opposite the bed was unlit, resulting in a chilled, now-silent room.

She stepped off the bed and made her way to the window, her heels clacking against the dark oak floor. On the way she passed her carved ebony keyhole desk, comprising of two sets of four drawers at either side and a central ebony chair, which was standing directly next to her matching four-shelved bookcase, filled with volumes upon volumes of books, the spines cracked from years of use. She opened the curtains and gazed through the leaded diamonds at the quickly dispersing yet exquisite sky for a few minutes, seated on the wide cream windowsill. She watched as murky, heavy black clouds began to invade the atmosphere, broadened by the heightening wind.

Constance stood and suddenly grasped the curtain, the unexpected weakening of her body striking her with such force the material swung back and forth as she clung on. She immediately sat back down, pausing a moment to take a deep breath. She rose up again slowly, balanced herself and walked over to her plainly carved ebony wardrobe, standing left adjacent to the window. She pulled out and placed her finest black satin cloak around her shoulders, fastening the clasp and flicking out her hair. She turned and walked the few paces to her ebony dressing table, right adjacent to the window and beside a chest of five drawers. Similarly carved in design to her other matching pieces, the grain was highly polished, showing the naturally streaked, dark colouring of the wood. The tabletop was covered with a cream silk cloth, upon which stood various objects and her hat. She picked it up and positioned it firmly on her head, raising her neck and sniffing delicately as she breathed in. Catching her reflection in the opulent oblong gold mirror fixed to the wall above the table, she placed an envelope in the small top right-hand side drawer. She laid it next to an amethyst pendant necklace and locked the drawer with an ornate silver key. She walked across to the right side of the bed and placed the key under a book next to the candle lantern on her ebony bedside table.

Walking back around the bed, she pulled the stiff oak chair beside the left of the bed sideways as she bent and lifted up a floorboard just beneath the bed. A white satin box was seated several inches down. She smiled and replaced the floorboard. On the top she drew a small letter M with her fingers: the mark became ingrained into the wood. Taking a sharp breath, she pulled on the antique, elaborately coiled, Gothic metal bedstead to stand, moving the chair back to its original positioning. She walked to the door. Before leaving, she glanced once again at Morgana, turned and left, closing the door fully shut. Morgana instantly stood as Constance pulled on the handle. The cat raced to the door and began scratching furiously at the wood, mewing pitifully after her mistress.

* * *

Constance made her way to the Great Hall. Upon entering, the noise level was so abundantly loud it was almost beyond her being able to withstand it. She proceeded to the centre of the room. Phyllis was waiting for her, eyeing her closely beneath the brim of her conjured purple hat.

The vast room itself was now amassed with ignited black candle lanterns, filling up the steadily darkening room with bright light. Hanging from the ceiling was the main large candelabra, the eight candles lit and flickering in the draughty air. The twin standing candelabras on the stage were additionally lit, as well as the candles on the wall-mounted brackets. Two fresh black lines had been drawn on the floor fifteen feet apart in the centre of the room. The girls were seated in their makeshift stadium, all chattering with anticipation. At the judges' table, Mr Hallow was in conversation with his colleagues. The large fireplace remained unlit, so as not to overpower the crowded area.

Amelia was standing quite still on the podium, preparing to address the eagerly awaiting room.

"We have now come to the most exciting part in the competition – our own Constance Hardbroom against Phyllis Pentangle. We shall start momentarily. Miss Drill, can you please see the doors are locked to prevent an interruption of their concentration."

Imogen looked at Amelia questioningly but obeyed, securing the doors shut.

"Davina, are all pupils present?"

"I believe so, Miss Cackle."

"Ladies – take your places!" Amelia climbed down and walked back to her seat.

Constance moved to the right of the Hall, in front of the teachers' table. Phyllis to the left, in view of the judges.

Constance bowed to Phyllis. Phyllis bowed back.

Constance smiled inwardly: you could always rely on Davina to miscount the girls whatever her state of mind was.

Phyllis raised her right hand as Constance raised hers. The Magical Duel began.


	8. Chapter 8

**UPDATED: 18****TH**** JANUARY 2009**

**WARNING: GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

* * *

"Millie … are you absolutely **certain **about doing this?" Maud repeated gingerly, her face showing extreme hesitancy.

"Yes … because … she was sure …" Mildred eventually replied, sounding about as confident as the last three times she had been asked the question.

"Do you think Miss Bat will have noticed our absence?" Ethel asked the three.

"Knowing Miss Bat, no – not a chance. I think that's what HB was counting on," Enid said quietly, opening Mildred's shutters further to let in the remaining daylight.

"What did she say was the signal?" Maud asked Mildred, wondering if HB was going to set off some sort of alarm.

Mildred said nothing for several moments, merely sitting, staring towards the wall and absent-mindedly twiddling with her loosely re-plaited hair. She could almost feel her heartbeat throbbing in her ears. She finally blinked, clearing the faint blur in her vision. Her thought-heavy mind felt fit to burst.

"She … she said we'd know when the time was right to …"

"I wonder how it's goi—?"

Enid stopped short as Mildred suddenly sat bolt upright and cursed loudly, realisation dawning on her …

"What's the **only** kind of signal we could **possibly** hear from up here? A SCREAM!"

"Mildred … what are yo—?" Maud started to speak again, standing up promptly as Mildred leaped off the bed and nearly knocked her flying.

Mildred muttered a series of words under her breath while grabbing her cloak. In a matter of seconds, a silent wall of light once again surrounded her room before vanishing.

"Come on, we have to move – NOW!"

They shot out of Mildred's room behind her and rapidly made their way down the partially spiralled staircase to the doors of the Great Hall. They could hear the noise of the pupils cheering and booing.

"Millie, what are we to …" Maud addressed her, before looking blankly at Enid and Ethel.

"Listen, we have to do this like she said, but we **need **to be here as **quickly** as possible rather than wait for our cue," Mildred stressed firmly. "We have to be **ready**."

They sank to the floor outside the double doors of the Great Hall and set in to wait.

* * *

"Had enough yet, Constance?" Phyllis taunted her opponent, laughing with deliberate malice between breaths.

"Never!" Constance gasped in reply.

Both women were out of breath and exhausted, but neither was going to admit defeat.

Imogen was watching them closely, feeling utterly perplexed. They were not aiming spells at each other – they were shooting bolts of pain … and it was almost as if Constance was deliberately missing her …

"Then take this, Hardbroom!" Phyllis yelled with fervour. A blast of bright green light shot at Constance, slamming straight into her chest.

"I say, Miss Pentangle – that wasn't fair. You said it was meant to be below the chest!" Imogen shouted, feeling somewhat perturbed and sorely tempted to intervene. "Miss Cackle, can't you do something?" Imogen turned to Amelia. Amelia was slumped in her seat. "Miss Cackle? AMELIA?!" Imogen turned to her other colleague. "DAVINA?!" Davina was also slumped in her chair, head bowed. At the judges' table so were all three judges. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" Imogen screamed. She looked at Constance, who was now gasping for every breath, half standing, half kneeling, her hat and cloak strewn across the Hall. Imogen then looked towards the girls. For a split second, she was not perceptive of the enchantments being cast before her.

Amelia opened her eyes, looked at Imogen and attempted to say something. As the pair turned to face front they both froze in their places. Amelia was completely unmoving – but her eyes, her eyes were darting around the room. Imogen managed to see Davina in her peripheral vision. She also was awake and now frozen, her eyes flying around wildly, filled with confusion and fright. Glancing at the girls, Imogen saw with a jolt of horror that they were all slumped in their seats. She noted she could still hear Phyllis and Constance panting …

Imogen quickly realised with immense panic that she, Amelia and Davina were the only ones who were awake; trapped in their bodies and unable to do anything but watch … and listen …

Constance and Phyllis addressed each other.

Constance rose to her feet, quivering badly.

"Are we going to finish this?" she spat at Phyllis, sweat beading down her forehead.

Phyllis nodded. "Oh … **yes**, my dear. We shall … indeed … **finish** this …"

Amelia was desperately trying to catch Constance's attention. _What in the name of God is happening?_ she thought frantically. She remembered how ill Mildred had become and Constance wanted to see her immediately … but she couldn't really remember the rest of the evening. Could she even remember this morning? An hour ago? Moments ago …? She couldn't remember. She watched as Phyllis raised her arms to strike … Amelia stared transfixed as unnerving realisation and overwhelming fear hit her as to what may be about to occur.

Constance took another bolt of bright green light which belted her hard in the stomach. Staggering back a little, she hurled back a bolt of fiery red at her opponent. It caught Phyllis's arm lightly and she stumbled into the wall from the force. She sent back a brilliant blue bolt which hit Constance squarely in the chest. Constance dropped to the floor. Half kneeling, she reciprocated with a blast of orange light which crashed into the wall behind Phyllis, knocking a hole in the oak panelling. Constance shakily stood upright, her body trembling violently.

Phyllis glared at her adversary. Constance was barely able to stand, wavering where she stood and on the verge of collapse.

Phyllis smiled: _Not quite the so-controlled perfectionist any more, are we? _she thought. Yes …_ I think now enough is enough … _She removed from her purple cloak a sharp, shiny black object. Drawing a breath for added strength and adjusting her grip, with visibly spectacular force, she flung the object with all her might towards Constance …

* * *

Mildred was becoming light-headed with anxiety outside the Great Hall. Inside it had turned almost completely silent … Couldn't be a good sign.

The hairs on the back of their necks spiked in terror as a blood-curdling scream reverberated throughout the castle.

Mildred nodded to her friends. They each swallowed the contents of a small phial, reciting as one an Unblocking Spell at the Great Hall doors …

* * *

Constance was lying on the floor, her back facing Amelia, Imogen and Davina.

Amelia was gripped with intense terror, having never in her life heard such a sound. She had briefly seen a hint of glowing black fly at Constance, followed by a flash of what could only be described as darkened light. She had no idea what it was, but Constance had been hit hard before slumping lifelessly to the ground. Amelia tried in dismay to think of a counter curse to the enchantment they were under.

Phyllis looked towards the now wide-open doors. She saw nothing. Heard nothing. Constance's agonised cry had masked all other noise before eventually echoing away into silence. She raised her arm: the doors slammed shut with vigour.

"Damn draughty castle!"

She strode with regal authority over to Constance, who was on her left side, her arms positioned flaccidly in front of her and legs unmoving. Phyllis bent down to her and turned her head slightly, softly brushing Constance's loose hair away from her face. As Constance's eyelids fluttered shut, a quickening trickle of blood began pooling down towards her waist …

Phyllis smiled in ecstasy. "Well now, Amelia … I think perhaps it's time I introduced myself … again …" She stood still and uttered an incantation quite unlike anything Amelia had ever heard before.

Mildred tugged Maud's arm. "When I say 'go', we 'go', right?"

Maud swallowed. "Right, Mil."

Enid and Ethel nodded.

"Think HB knew this was going to happen?" Enid asked the three, moving slightly in her place.

"God knows," Maud said, fidgeting next to Enid. "We can't see her properly behind here – is she **okay**?"

Mildred bit her lip. _Oh, she knew … she knew …_

They had situated themselves just behind tiered cluster of Pentangle's girls at the right-hand side of the makeshift stadium, where they had darted immediately after entering the Great Hall. The potion they had taken moments before had rendered them invisible and inaudible to everyone but each other.

"Evening, Amelia … my dear, dear **Sister** …" came a voice from the top of the room …

"AGATHA CACKLE!" Enid gasped.

"She was right!" Ethel said, open-mouthed.

Mildred peeked up for a better view. "It's only her VOICE! She hasn't fully transformed … She HAS to transform!" she shrieked.

_AGATHA?! _Amelia looked at Phyllis. It couldn't be her sister. She could scarcely draw breath; it was hard enough trying to breathe properly when one was frozen to the spot.

"Ah yes, Amelia – **me**. Thought you had seen the last of me, did you? Never, Amelia, I shall always triumph over you eventually, dear …"

Agatha turned around and flicked her wrist: Augusta Brothbottle and Deidre Swoop both awoke and were beckoned over by Agatha, leaving an ideal gap for Mildred, Maud, Enid and Ethel to view what was happening.

The first thing they noticed was the horizontal figure of HB, apparently unconscious … and the gradually growing puddle of blood beneath her …

Mildred started to shake. "Oh, my Go—"

"Mil … MILDRED! Keep it together – we have to focus! She said we had to wait for the right moment." Maud looked directly into Mildred's face. "We **have** to."

"So you see, Amelia," Agatha carried on, "I was not alone in this venture, my dear friends here …" At this point, Augusta transformed into Betty Bindweed and Deidre into Millicent Coldstone, both emerging from black smoke after muttering another series of strange words.

The two women grinned at Amelia with their decayed teeth, newly acquired hats crooked upon their straggly yet cleaner than usual hair, and new-looking cloaks hanging off their equally pristine black dresses, instead of their usual ragged, dirty attire. Each walked to either side of Agatha.

"It all formulated after I made my third entrance into here. Oh yes, Amelia – **third **time. You never even realised I had broken in. But then, abundant cheesecake and endless cups of belladonna-spiked tea does tend to make one less observant to a simple-minded carpenter merely adding some shelving units in the kitchen …" Agatha grinned knowingly.

Amelia's mind flew back to the kindly yet very quiet man they had been advised to hire by Frank before he went on holiday a few months ago, just before the end of the Winter Term break. So kind, in fact, he brought her several cups of tea and cake while Mrs Tapioca was away for the day. She had thought it amusing at the time that Morgana seemed to follow him everywhere …

Agatha continued. "I – or rather we – managed in our little sojourn here to find our dear Constance's secret hiding place for her **extra special **book …"

Amelia's eyes widened as far as the enchantment would allow.

"And **what **a find it was. Naturally, I couldn't just take it, as she would have noticed it gone … eventually …" She gave a wry smile. "But there was nothing to stop me making a copy of it, was there? The little known Xeroxico Duplicatis enchantment did the trick – rather easy, as it happened. But now, your dear Constance was always going to be a problem initially for me … but then, once I had the book, it wasn't too hard to control her very own cat into scratching her with – ah – **venom **… Yes, that is quite an appropriate word. Oh the **irony**! I knew it wouldn't be long before the effects started to drag her down, her being such a powerful witch and all … getting weaker by the day …"

Amelia's heart gave a jolt as she remembered how Constance had been busy that day categorising the library when she had vaguely heard her scold her cat loudly for making a hole in her dress.

"And my little diversionary plot to get you away from that damn deputy of yours worked like a charm! Constance didn't look very well after saving Miss Hubble's life, did she? A way of turning up the volume, so to speak. In quite a state to collapse again, wouldn't you say? Seems that Augusta did a rather good job on Mildred, too. Not seen her since her defeat, have we, dear? Fitting for that little **bitch **who foiled me twice before. Well, not this time! My, I **am** enjoying this … call it childish satisfaction … because face it, Amelia – how **are** you going to get out of this one? But I digress. Once Constance was affected I put my perfect plan in action. It was really very simple – I just pretended to be you in order to get into Chief Wizard Hellibore's Academy. And the sheer beauty of it is the fact the pompous git was just **so** effortlessly controlled. I don't think his puffed-up little brain could resist the attention I was throwing on him. I simply, ahem, **suggested** we all be entered into the Supreme Challenge, implanted the idea in his head, and he – or rather I – did the rest. I still cannot believe you never suspected after speaking to him about it … Yes … I imagine he must have been rather confused, but then, I'm sure he simply apologised at his error, especially as he wouldn't have been able to remember anything … As for Phyllis, well, you could say she's a little out of sorts at present, currently locked under her school in the cellars, along with her remaining pupils …"

Agatha grinned maliciously. "And our dear judges over there …" she glanced over to them, "they were easy to manipulate into making sure that you were chosen against Pentangle's. Miss Bat? Well, Davina has got very little brain to start with, haven't you, dearie? And **so** quick to just put to sleep when necessary. As for Drill – non-witches are **so naïve** – there was no need to control her hardly at all, either – she was already unbelievably easy to command. Which leaves us with **you**, Amelia, and how simple it was to take over your pathetic, minuscule mind. You all fell straight into my trap without so much as an inkling. You really think I'm going to take risks in this school, Amelia? You should know me better than that. Oh, no, no, no, I took precautions this time, and now you will pay the consequences long awaiting you … awaiting all of you. You see, Amelia, that book had a few charming little potions and spells, including how to command a person … and their magic. For a short time, a long time … and take it permanently …"

Agatha looked over towards Constance. She was motionless.

"Phyllis is still very much alive – just. Body Switching is a dreadful business to be on the receiving end of." Agatha let out a laugh with a sickening sound. "As are the real Miss Brothbottle and Miss Swoop. I am not fully evil, Amelia. I don't want too much blood on my hands, but for her …" Agatha pointed at Constance, smiling triumphantly, "I will make an exception."

Amelia glimpsed over to her deputy, her heart pounding in alarm.

"I happened across a rather wonderful incantation and potion you see. A foolproof way to remove any witch or wizard's Magical Soul completely – and the rather informative instructions on exactly how to combine the enchantments and add necessary ingredients to create the required object. I'm afraid that said person has to die, but then, no enchantment is perfect. You ever heard of a **Soul Dagger**, Amelia?"

Amelia flashed to the memory of the shiny black object which was now undoubtedly in Constance. A surge of nausea crawled up her throat.

"I shouldn't think it will be long now, and once she is dead, the Dagger will transfer all of her power to me – and there is not a single thing you can do about it! Oh, I almost forgot – just in case you had any ideas, please note: the wounds caused by the Dagger cannot be treated by any magical potions or spells. In short – there is NOTHING you can do to save her life! And if you were wondering about the Witches' Code, ever heard of the other loophole? It seems that transforming into another person somewhat kyboshes the law on that score. Not that it matters now, either way …"

Mildred looked at the others: time was running out for Miss Hardbroom.

At that precise moment their attention was caught as Agatha started muttering more unfamiliar words … Like her accomplices, she became surrounded by smoke. Thick, swirling, billowing black smoke. As quickly as the smoke had arrived it dispersed, leaving the full body of Agatha Cackle standing before her identical twin sister. She was dressed in a black silk gown, cloak and hat especially for the occasion, and now wearing her own round, jam-jar thick, black-rimmed glasses. Still sitting around her neck was the oval locket, glowing and shimmering in the candlelight.

"Aaah … that's better. Much more superior disguise this time, wasn't it, dear?" Agatha said, grunting and stretching out her arms in a superior, feline-like manner.

Mildred swallowed her courage.

"Go!"

Enid quickly hurried to the left side of the Great Hall, confident that Agatha could neither see nor hear her. Ethel went to the opposite side to Enid. Both the girls stood as close to Bindweed and Coldstone respectively as they could.

Mildred and Maud came out from under the tiered chairs and positioned themselves a few feet behind Agatha. Mildred nodded to Enid, who began to chant. Ethel followed suit.

Mildred opened her cloak and took out an old, cracked and impressively hand-bound book. Its leathery pinkish-brown binding appeared to be fairly thick and was encrusted with raised pentacles: each of them a five-pointed, continuous-lined star surrounded by a circle. The book itself was about the half the size of a shoe box, three inches in thickness and tied with a faded, frayed red ribbon, which was looped through a hole in the middle of both the front and back covering. On the front was a large pentagram. It had been unmistakably drawn with blood. The book was glowing brilliant red in her hands. She quickly untied the ribbon and opened it up to the back, revealing a series of yellowed blank pages with scuffed edges. She stopped on a page with the corner of the sheet turned over. Within seconds, writing appeared on the page in front of her:

_Yrecros Fo Noisulcerp_

"Oh no, oh no, oh no …" Mildred looked down to see her feet reappearing. "Damn it – it's wearing off!"

Amelia scanned the room as far as her vision could expand. She could have sworn she heard something.

Agatha noticed Amelia's eyes searching from corner to corner. "What are you looking …? Bindweed? Coldstone? What the HELL?!"

They were both encased in ice – as still as statues.

Mildred, Maud, Enid and Ethel joined together in the middle of the room, Enid and Ethel having taken care of the two henchwomen at either side of Agatha.

Agatha whipped around to face the noise she had just heard. She watched in alarm as all four girls reappeared with Mildred in the centre, their eyes reading from the book. Agatha stared horror-struck as they began to chant the words on the page in front of them:

"_Esaec Won Eht Dekciw Syaw …_"

"YOU!" Agatha shrieked in dismayed recognition.

Quick as lightning, she threw a bolt of green light towards Mildred. Enid jumped in front of her and screamed as pain coursed through her chest. She took a small gasp and fell to the ground.

They carried on chanting, faster and faster …

"_Emit Ot Esaeler Ruoy Rewop …_"

Another bolt, this one hit Ethel squarely in the stomach as she placed herself in front of Mildred. She doubled over and dropped to her knees. "Keep going!" she gasped at the two remaining.

"_Tub Erofeb Ti Llahs Nruter …_"

Agatha looked at her hands. They were turning luminous white in colour … then they began to turn black. "NO!" she screamed in fury, her voice reverberating around the room. "What are you doing to –?"

Another bolt shot out, but this one was much smaller. It hit Mildred's right leg. She cried out in pain but remained standing.

Amelia watched bewildered. She saw Imogen out of the corner of her eye. Imogen seemed to be watching Constance. Amelia glanced over to where she lay and could just see the tips of her fingers twitching …

_It's working! _Mildred thought. _It's WORKING!_

Agatha was losing her strength. She tried in vain with another bolt. The sizzling stream of power flew past Maud's head, missing her by inches.

"_Yam Ssap Ynam Na Ruoh …_"

Within seconds they finished chanting …

A strange, chilling silence descended over the room. Agatha attempted to speak but found herself unable to move. Her body began to quiver; her hands fully blackened. She dropped unconscious to the floor.

Constance opened her eyes, managed to move her right hand and aimed at the group. A small stream of white light flew from her fingertips. Bindweed and Coldstone were released, the crystallised shards crumbling then vanishing from their bodies. They toppled to the ground with a thud. All three were flung together towards the far wall, and then a square iron cage appeared and encapsulated them within it.

Constance made a small noise. Her hand became still once more.


	9. Chapter 9

**UPDATED: 24TH MARCH 2009**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

* * *

A blast of astounding white light rocketed around the room. Amelia, Imogen, Davina, the judges and the rest of the pupils were instantaneously fully operational. The pandemonium that erupted was overwhelming, filled with shouts and screams which immediately engulfed the Great Hall.

Amelia locked eyes with Davina, the pair forming a mutual split-second decision. They both raised their hands simultaneously and released several flashes of red light from their fingertips; the sparks shot into the air and began swarming around the room like fireflies towards their targets. All of the occupants apart from Mildred, Maud, Enid, Ethel, Imogen and Constance were brought to a standstill, reduced to mere statues in their places.

Imogen was already rushing over to Constance. Amelia jumped down from the stage and followed Imogen, Davina in close pursuit.

"Constance? Constance, can you hear me?" Imogen called out frantically, kneeling down in front of her as Amelia knelt at the other side of Constance.

They carefully turned her onto her back. Amelia drew a sharp breath, clasping her hand to her mouth. Imogen pulled back and retched in shock. Mildred and Maud were still helping Enid and Ethel up; they all approached rapidly to where their form mistress lay, the full extent of her injuries becoming apparent to them all.

The Soul Dagger, a shiny black shaft of what looked like quartz stone, was glinting as it reflected the candle light on its sharp edges. The remaining part that was visible was about four inches in length, shaped in an elongated diamond. It was wedged in her lower chest, a few inches directly below her sternum and angled upwards towards Constance's left. Blood was now spilling profusely out of the wound, adding to the accumulation beneath her. Constance's eyes were closed. She was limp and cold. Her complexion waxy and clammy, and faded reddish lips whitening and tinged with blue.

Amelia released a choked whimper as the reality of the moment hit her full force.

"Oh – my – what – do – we –" Amelia gulped, tears spilling from her eyes. "O-oh … G-G-God …" Trembling uncontrollably, she lifted up her deputy's head and partial torso and began cradling her in her lap.

"Amelia – is she still breathing? AMELIA?" Imogen raised her voice authoritatively.

"I – I – d-don't … I d-don't k-know …" Amelia was utterly distraught, struggling to think clearly, let alone speak.

Mildred rushed forwards. She placed her right ear above Constance's mouth and put her left hand on her chest, listening and feeling for signs of life.

"She's still breathing, Miss Drill … but only just …" Mildred hastily scrambled up. "DON'T LET HER STOP BREATHING!" she yelled, flying from the room.

"Amelia … **Amelia**?" Imogen stressed, impatience in her tone.

Amelia was now slightly rocking back and forth, holding Constance tightly to her chest, her taut yet shaking arms clutching her deputy's unmoving form. She seemed to be having a panic attack.

"WILL YOU SNAP OUT OF IT, AMELIA – WE DON'T HAVE TIME!" Imogen screamed at her headmistress. "Keep her still."

Imogen speedily took off her jacket, stretched out the sleeves and wrapped them around the base of the Dagger, trying to seal the gushing wound. Pinning her jacket in place with one hand, she took hold of Constance's wrist with the other and felt her pulse.

"It's thready – her blood pressure must be plummeting." She turned her head to Davina, who was standing behind her and swaying alarmingly on the spot. "Davina – DAVINA, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER! Go to Amelia's office and call Dr Herbert Rowan-Webb – the number is by the phone. Tell him Constance has been stabbed with a Soul Dagger in her lower chest and to get here ASAP with as much equipment as he can manage, then call nine-nine-nine for more help. Tell them to **hurry **… Ethel, go with her."

Davina took one last glimpse at Constance as Ethel grabbed her arm. They fled from the room.

"Maud, Enid?" Imogen continued. "Go to the infirmary and fetch as many towels, blankets, bandages, whatever you can carry – RUN!" Imogen looked around. "Where's Mildred gone?"

Amelia was staring down at her fading deputy lying so very still in her arms. Tears were flowing down her face and her mind felt numb with disbelief.

"Amelia, can you freeze time? AMELIA! Can you freeze time to stop her losing more blood? Can you freeze **her**?" Imogen asked randomly, having no real idea what – if anything – could be done.

"No … no … it d-doesn't w-work on h-humans … they … t-time d-doesn't c-continue … it f-freezes t-them c-completely … b-but … w-when –" Amelia stopped and inhaled a few breaths. "When the spell is – is released … their b-bodies accelerate forwards three t-times f-faster to – to r-recover the … the t-time lost … It – it would be too … too d-dangerous t-to t-try …"

"What about immobilising her – like them?" Imogen flicked her head, indicating the stationary pupils behind her and eyeing up the identically affected judges before her facing left.

Amelia shook her head. "S-same … same thing. All – all the f-freezing e-enchantments have a c-consequence … I don't … I – I d-don't know w-what to … to d-do …"

Imogen swore several times, uttering words under her breath and watching in dismay as Constance's breathing became more and more shallow …

Mildred's mind was ablaze as she flew through the castle. She flung open the door to Constance's bedroom with a bang, hearing Morgana yelp from under the bed. Mildred ran to Constance's dressing table, dragged it over a few feet towards the window and pulled up a loose-looking floorboard underneath it. She muttered a spell and a burst of white light came out from the shadowy darkness of the dusty cavity. A small ebony box rose up. Mildred grabbed the box and fled the room. She took the staircase two steps at a time and ran back into the Great Hall to find her headmistress still closely holding and now sobbing heavily over her motionless deputy.

Mildred knelt down, panting slightly, beside Constance's legs next to Imogen. "Miss Cackle?" Putting the box to one side, she removed the replaced book from her cloak and repeated her name. Amelia still didn't respond. "MISS CACKLE?"

Amelia glanced up, trying to control her panicked breathing.

"Miss Cackle, Miss Hardbroom told me that if anything … anything bad happened we were to use the enchantment in here."

Mildred opened the book to another turned corner. Amelia and Imogen watched in amazement. On the empty page in the intensely red glowing book, writing was appearing out of seemingly nowhere. She showed it to Amelia.

"It's called Comatosation. It's a magical coma. It's the **only **known method against the Soul Dagger. It's the ONLY way."

"But … b-but Agatha … sai—"

"She couldn't see it!" Mildred retorted, rather more brusquely than she meant to.

"How … how … d-did you … kn—?"

Amelia broke off as Constance gave a tiny cough. She looked down at Constance. Her eyelashes fluttered.

Amelia hardly dared to hope. "C-Constance? CONSTANCE, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Constance opened her eyes very slowly. She tried to swallow and winced as a small trickle of blood poured out of the left corner of her mouth.

"M-M-Mildred?" she gasped, barely audible.

"I'm here …" Mildred put the book down and moved past Imogen to Constance's top left side, taking her hand.

Constance smiled. "T-t-thank … y-you … M-Mildred …" She grimaced in pain and her eyes began to close …

"OH NO – DON'T YOU DARE! DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT LEAVING US, MISS HARDBROOM!"

Jolted by her pupil's tone, Constance forced her eyes open and stared at Mildred.

"M-Mil … m-make s-sure … s-s-she … d-doesn't … g-get i-it … y—" Constance stopped, blinking wearily as she took another strained breath. "Y-you k-know … w-what y-you h-have … t-to d-do …"

Amelia looked to Mildred.

"She wants us to remove her magic," Mildred explained to them.

"She WHAT?" Imogen screeched before she could stop herself, still pressing hard on the bleeding wound.

"If she dies while the Dagger is still in her, Agatha will automatically absorb her power. But if we remove the Dagger without the Comatosation taking effect she will die," Mildred answered quickly.

Amelia appeared flabbergasted. "But … but the s-spell you c-cast on Agatha?"

"It was temporary: we **have** to take out her magic as a precaution in case she dies before we can remove the Dagger, and we have to keep her ALIVE for the enchantment to work!"

"M-Mil …" Constance spoke again, taking several short gasps of air, "g-go … g-get t-them …"

"I already have, Miss," Mildred replied, squeezing her hand.

Constance gave her an anaemic smile, feebly gripping back.

"What d-does s-she mean?" Amelia asked, gulping back tears. She felt overwhelmed with confusion, like her brain was submerged in dense fog.

Mildred flicked her head in the direction of the box. "The things we need."

"What t-things?" Amelia said, glancing down expectantly for further information. Constance's eyes had closed.

Maud and Enid skidded back, panting, each with abundant armfuls of white towels and grey blankets. Mildred jumped up to Maud and took a blanket. The pair both began shaking them out as Maud enlightened Mildred on where Davina and Ethel had gone.

"Enid, come and press a towel around the Dagger – hard. We have to try and stem the blood flow," Imogen instructed immediately.

Enid crouched beside Amelia on Constance's right. Imogen, slowly and with great care, removed her dripping and saturated jacket as Enid quickly replaced it with a more absorbent towel, wrapping it completely around the Dagger's entrance.

Imogen tenderly took Constance's legs and pushed her knees upwards, simultaneously placing a number of towels beneath to keep them elevated. She felt an instant pang of guilt as Constance released a small cry of pain. She glanced at her jacket she had thrown to the side, her heart thumping in panic at the amount of fluid already lost. Imogen, Mildred and Maud then proceeded to cover Constance's lower limbs, wrapping her up in the blankets.

Constance coughed weakly. A splash of blood came out and dripped down her chin onto her neck, followed by a series of diminishing rasping noises emitting from her failing body.

"Constance …" Amelia shrieked in anguished fear.

Mildred moved swiftly to Constance, taking her lifeless hand. She clamped her fingers tightly, rubbing the back roughly in an effort to wake her up.

"MISS HARDBROOM – I MEAN IT – DON'T YOU DARE! YOU HAVE TO FIGHT! YOU MADE ME FIGHT, NOW YOU BLOODY WELL FIGHT FOR US! OPEN YOUR EYES AND STAY AWAKE!" she screamed, tears rapidly flowing down her face.

Constance's eyelids flickered before they closed once again.

Mildred's eyes were flittering about the room in desperation. "WHERE THE HELL IS THE DOCTOR?"

"I-Imogen … I … I d-don't t-think s-she's b-breathing …" Amelia stammered, her expression horrified, eyes wide and lips quivering as she spoke in barely a whisper.

Imogen moved past Mildred to Constance's neck, placing one hand on her chest, the other pulling her hair out of the way, checking her pulse and calling her name. She placed her ear above Constance's mouth.

"Nothing," Imogen said quietly.

"We have to resuscitate her …"

Imogen did not respond to Mildred's voice. She sat back slightly, staring, defeated.

"**Miss Drill**, we **have** to resuscitate her!" Mildred's order was directed at Imogen with forceful conviction. She wiped her face with her cloak, preparing herself without waiting for an answer.

Imogen swallowed hard and nodded firmly.

"Yes … we have to try … Amelia, lay her down flat."

Maud went to lower Constance's legs.

"No, Maud – leave her knees up – we need as much blood going to the heart as possible," Imogen stated, meeting Maud's gaze as Maud nodded shakily.

They laid Constance's upper body flat out on the floor. Mildred climbed to the right side of her head beside Amelia.

"Okay, tilt her head back and open her mouth fully …" Imogen directed.

Using her fingertips, Mildred tilted Constance's head back and gently opened her mouth wider, wiping the surrounding blots of blood away with her hand.

"Amelia – keep checking her pulse. Enid – keep the towel compressed hard and don't let the Dagger move – watch for any sign of life. Maud – go and see if Davina has got through for help. You and Ethel open the gates and lighten the area as much as you can to guide Herbert. Tell Davina to fly to the parameter of the castle to look for him and fly him here if necessary," Imogen said hurriedly, scarcely pausing for breath.

Maud flew from the room with her heart in her mouth, fearing what she may come back to.

"Ready?" Imogen checked, not entirely certain she was ready herself.

"YES!" Mildred said steadfastly, rigid determination on her face.

"Is her airway clear?" Imogen continued.

Mildred took a closer look. "Yes, I think so."

"Right, pinch her nose, wrap your mouth around hers and give two normal breaths. Breathe out a couple of seconds for each one and check her neck pulse during compressions," Imogen guided. Although incredibly unsure she should be allowing Mildred to proceed, Amelia was obviously in no state to do anything. Imogen quickly glanced at her headmistress. Amelia was taking deep breaths, staring downwards and holding Constance's wrist delicately with her left hand. Her still-quivering right hand was gripping Constance's fingers, almost as if she was hoping Constance would somehow be aware that she was there.

Mildred took a breath, bent over and placed her mouth over Constance's, while pinching her nose and supporting her jaw. She exhaled and repeated the action, watching Constance's chest movement from the corner of her eye.

Imogen knelt directly next to Constance's left side. Shaking slightly, she put the heel of her left hand in the centre of Constance's chest and her right on top, interlocking her fingers with her arms straight, just like she had been shown on the first-aid course. She pumped in quick succession.

"One, two, three, four, five … ten … sixteen … twenty-four … thirty. Now, Mildred," Imogen prompted.

Once again, Mildred gave two breaths.

Then Imogen, thirty compressions.

Then Mildred, two breaths.

Then Imogen.

Then Mildred.

Then Imogen.

"Any-thi-ng?" Imogen gasped to Amelia and Enid as she and Mildred halted their cycle.

"No … nothing," Enid said quietly. Mildred and Amelia shook their heads.

"WE HAVE TO KEEP GOING!" Mildred looked at Imogen, her eyes pleading with her desperately.

Imogen was already panting for air herself; she had never realised how physically demanding it was to resuscitate someone in reality.

Mildred knew her teacher couldn't keep up her pace. "Swap me!"

"Mil-dred?"

"Swap me, Miss Drill. I will take over – you do the breathing."

"Mil-dred … can y-you do this?"

"If you can do it – I can, too!"

They swapped places speedily. Imogen immediately gave two rather insubstantial but necessary breaths to restart the cycle.

"Ok-ay. Place … the heel of your ha-nd right in … the centre of her … chest." Imogen inhaled deeply and cleared her throat, still panting slightly. "Mind the Dagger … that's it … now … cross your hands and arms like I did, don't … bend your elbows … now pump about two inches deep …"

Imogen watched Mildred counting aloud, mentally joining in as she tried to regulate her own breathing.

"One, two, three, four, five … ten … sixteen … twenty-four … thirty."

Imogen gave two improved breaths as her own breathing recovered.

Mildred did thirty compressions.

Imogen gave two breaths.

Mildred's eyes were fixed on Constance's face. "COME ON! DAMN IT, BREATHE – YOU HAVE TO BREATHE!"

Enid was watching Constance's left hand, holding the towel firmly in place. Amelia was still concentrating on her wrist. Imogen was waiting for Mildred's turn to end, her fingers on Constance's neck.

None of them noticed the wispy, softly illuminated whiteness beneath Mildred's intersected hands filtering for several seconds into Constance before dispersing unseen.

Imogen gave two breaths.

Mildred did thirty compressions.

Imogen gave two breaths.

"MISS!"

"Enid – what is it?" Amelia spoke up instantly, regaining her voice.

"Her hand twitched."

Imogen and Mildred stopped.

Constance took a small breath and coughed, a little spattering of blood emerging.

"She's breathing again … but it's laboured," Imogen confirmed, turning Constance's head gently sideways to her left, making sure she was not choking before checking her neck pulse. "It's very weak."

"Mildred – get the box!" Amelia cried.

Mildred had sat back slightly. Her palms were pushed against the floor, head bowed, eyes closed and body trembling. She seemed to be trying to catch her breath.

"Mil? MIL – ARE YOU OKAY?" Enid removed one of her bloodied hands from the towel and tapped her knee.

Mildred opened her eyes and took a deep breath, and then another. All three were watching her in alarm.

"I'm … I'm okay. I – I – just went a bit … funny …" she gasped, "for a minute …" Mildred shook her head as if to shake off the strange feeling that had come over her, taking several more deep inhalations.

Constance fluttered her eyelids very briefly.

"Constance? Constance, it's Imogen – can you open your eyes for me? **Come on**, Constance – I need you to keep awake. I didn't do that blasted course for nothing! You have to stay with us."

Constance did not respond. Imogen continued to feel her pulse, watching closely, her eyes focused on her every breath.

Mildred crawled over and pulled the box towards her. She unlocked it with the key placed in ready. Inside were two phials. A test tube and a large, conical phial a quarter full of fluorescent white liquid.

"Now what?"

Amelia looked at Mildred. "You tell me!"

Mildred glimpsed something beneath the second phial. It was a folded piece of paper. She pulled it out and read aloud:

"_Amelia, take the small, empty phial and fill it with my blood from the Dagger's entrance – it does not have to be more than a quarter full. The phial is enchanted to attract my magic within the blood in its entirety. Then take the other phial and pour the potion down my throat. Make sure it is all swallowed. Have Mildred then recite the incantation in the Almanac. If it works I shall be rendered in a state of Comatosation, allowing the Soul Dagger to be safely removed. I may not awaken for some time. The Comatosation will only work if I have enough strength to absorb the magic. If I am too close to death, it is unlikely to take effect. If I die before you can remove the Dagger, then the phial with my magic MUST still be destroyed along with the Dagger to prevent Agatha possibly acquiring it. Amelia, the enchantment will only allow the removal of the weapon –_"

Mildred stopped a moment, reading down a few lines faster than she was reading aloud. She continued, her voice quavering:

"_It will not p-prevent death occurring if it is u-unavoidable. This was the o-only way. Forgive me._"

There was a lower paragraph. She read it silently:

_Mildred, this could never have been done without you. Only YOU could have accessed the enchantment to stop her. Remember everything I told you, and make certain you protect the Almanac from destruction at all costs. And thank you, Constance._

Mildred looked up, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. She handed the note to Amelia, who scanned it fleetingly and gave it to Imogen.

"Mildred, hand … hand me the empty phial."

Mildred passed the empty phial to her headmistress. Enid, very gently, partially unravelled the now-soaked towel just enough for a small trickle to flow through. Amelia removed the cork from the phial and placed it just beneath the entry point of the Dagger. They watched it fill with the leaking blood. A smoky white cloud of light briefly surrounded the opening as the liquid settled level. Amelia replaced the cork, her hands continuing to tremble. She put the phial of blood in her inner cloak pocket, safely away, before again taking her deputy's right hand.

"Enid, put another towel around but leave that one on – don't take it off – it might mess with any clotting," Imogen advised her, indicating another towel from the pile by Constance's legs.

Enid grabbed a new towel, wrapped it around on top of the other and continued to press.

"Is that **it**?" Enid asked Amelia. "**All** her magic is in that phial?"

"I … I guess so. It … seems … s-she knew … e-exactly what s-she was d-doing …" Amelia's brief composure was beginning to falter once more. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she looked at Constance, watching her struggling to take full breaths.

"We have to do this now!" Mildred said impetuously, picking up the phial of potion.

Enid glanced at her prostrate teacher. "But what if she chokes?"

Mildred reacted angrily towards her. "Well unless **you've** a better suggestion?"

Enid looked crushed. "I'm sorry, but what else can we do?"

"HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE! HELP IS HERE!" Davina almost flew into the room. She stopped dead when she saw Constance. "Is she … is she?"

"N-no … Davina … t-they … they got her b-back …" Amelia said faintly.

"I'm here, I'm here …" Dr Herbert Rowan-Webb skidded to a halt beside Davina.

"Oh – my – GOD ALMIGHTY!" Herbert's face was aghast. "How long has she been like** this**?"

Imogen was still kneeling, now more so behind Constance, supporting her head. She was staring at the blood-soaked material of her jacket, absent-mindedly stroking Constance's temple with her left thumb as if to provide some small reassurance to her. Her other slightly shaking hand was still monitoring her pulse.

Herbert swallowed uneasily as he hurriedly neared the scene.

"Imogen – take my mobile. Call the air ambulance direct number on the phone and tell them to be as fast as they possibly can. I called already after you did, but it's a long way." He drew a little closer to Imogen as she stood up and leaned to whisper in her ear. "Tell them **impending code blue**." He turned around. "Davina, I need you to make the castle as visible as pos—"

"Herbert, we won't get a signal up here. I'll have to use the main phone," Imogen interjected.

"It's got a magic signal booster – connects me wherever I am," Herbert added quickly.

Imogen took the mobile phone from his outstretched hand, selected the correct number and dialled, taking herself out of earshot. She couldn't help but wonder – despite the present circumstances – why the hell they hadn't thought of that!

Maud and Ethel ran in after them as Davina left. They, too, stopped dead in their tracks, surveying the sight before them. They walked slowly over to the wall left of Imogen and sat down in silence, both their faces ghostly with fright.

"AMELIA?" Herbert stressed, catching her attention as he tried to take in the situation fully himself.

"Oh – er – about fifteen minutes, a … a bit more maybe, she," she gulped, "stopped breathing briefly, but Imogen and Mildred managed to resuscitate her." Amelia released Constance's hand and rose to her feet, picking up the letter from the floor. She walked around to Herbert, who was frenziedly unpacking his equipment from the large black-and-yellow canvas rucksack he had brought in with him, and handed him Constance's message.

He read it very swiftly. "Er – right – have you taken her blood?"

"Yes, but … but we didn't know how to give her the potion without her choking," Amelia replied.

"Has she any other injuries? Did she hit her head, neck, spine, anything?" Herbert questioned further, the concern clear in his voice.

"No … no, I don't think so just the … the D-Dagger," Amelia said, quivering still.

He rolled up his sleeves and dragged his partially unpacked rucksack to the side out of his way, sitting it next to the few sealed packets, containers and general medical debris now littering the floor. He knelt directly beside Constance on her left. Mildred went to her other side, left of Enid. Mildred was still clutching the phial.

Herbert unwrapped and pulled on a pair of white disposable gloves before grabbing his stethoscope. He unzipped her dress, the collar previously loosened by Imogen, as much as he could, cautiously peeling back the material and exposing her neck area completely, revealing a black silk chemise worn over her black patterned bra. He placed the instrument on her chest, moving it around while simultaneously feeling her neck pulse and listening intently. While he was doing this, he began saying several words to her, his face turning more troubled as he received no response. He then lifted the blankets covering Constance's bent legs and began methodically yet quickly inspecting her body to double-check there were no further injuries elsewhere before covering her back up. He turned, pulled his rucksack a little closer and rummaged around in the side pocket, taking out a small torch, and very gently opened Constance's eyelids, shining the light in each eye in turn. He put the torch in his front shirt pocket, and then took her hand and pressed down on one of her fingernails, before releasing his pressure and watching for a few seconds, grimacing.

Amelia cleared her throat and looked at him for information. Herbert stood and elaborated quietly to Amelia.

"Her breathing is very laboured and she's tachycardic – I think she is already in hypovolaemic shock."

Amelia shrugged slightly. Herbert rephrased his assessment.

"She's losing too much blood and will likely have internal injuries; she needs to be stabilised and operated on urgently."

Constance suddenly pierced the air with a choked gasp, coughing out a very small amount of blood before continuing to draw breath.

"Constance, it's Herbert – can you open your eyes for me?" he said as he crouched back down. He took her left hand. "Can you squeeze my fingers?"

Constance moved her eyelids ever so slightly, unable to fully open them. But she gripped his fingers.

Herbert turned around and reached for a small, labelled cylinder of oxygen, silver and green in colour and about the size of a bottle of carbonated water. He then picked up and unwrapped a long, thin tube of plastic, ending with a transparent mask connected to an inflatable plastic bag, which was almost white in colour, and attached it to the cylinder. He turned on the oxygen flow and adjusted the apparatus before double-checking the gauge once more, clearly reassuring Constance as he went along, talking her through what he was doing. Lifting Constance's head up, he put the elasticated mask over her nose and mouth.

"It should make her a little more comfortable," he whispered to the girls, smiling at Mildred and Enid and trying to hide his nervousness. Enid met his eyeline as she shifted her legs a little, making sure she didn't lean on Constance, swallowing determinedly as she continued to hold the towelled base of the Dagger stagnant. Herbert took a blanket, folded it and placed it gently beneath Constance's head and neck. He then loosely twisted and moved her long hair to the back of her head.

"They are being as quick as they can. They had another emergency earlier," Imogen told Herbert as she ended the call.

"But t-the Dagger –" Amelia continued, pressingly. "If it is removed before the enchantment starts to work she will DIE. We **have **to get that potion into her!"

"Etheliana …" Herbert muttered almost inaudibly, his eyes glazed.

Amelia looked at him baffled. "What?"

"Etheliana … years ago, a colleague –" Herbert paused and swallowed. "He treated this witch who was attacked like Constance. She and her husband were … they … they did not have a potion … she … they didn't … Amelia, that's the only time I've ever heard of a Soul Dagger …"

Mildred glanced up sharply.

Unnoticed by the rest, sitting by the wall, Ethel let out an audible gasp.

Herbert ran his hand through his hair, thinking desperately.

"There's no way she will be able to swallow it. All I can do is inject it – and hope it still works …"

Herbert took the phial of potion from Mildred's shaking hands and set it down beside him.

Mildred looked at Amelia and Imogen, more tears running down her face.

Turning to Constance, Herbert lifted her left arm and pushed her sleeve up to her shoulder. He noticed the brightly glowing red scratch.

"Where did this …?"

"It – it must be Agatha. She said it … that she was scratched with a … a venom. But we … I don't know what … It … it appears the point of it was to … to weaken her leading up to today," Amelia answered, wiping her face. She went back around and knelt beside Mildred by Constance's head. She then gasped in horror at the now noticeably visible, deeply cut scars all over Constance's skin on her upper arm, chest and lower neck.

Herbert squeezed the top of Constance's greying arm tightly. "DAMN! Her veins are collapsing."

"What does … what does that mean?" Amelia clamped her mouth momentarily as nausea once again rose in her throat.

Herbert swallowed forcibly. "I have to go into her neck." He turned, picked up the phial and several more items and shifted to Constance's right side. Mildred and Amelia moved to her left. They watched as he unwrapped, unfolded and laid out a white, dense, sterile paper towel and put a small roll of white tape on the upper right corner. He then removed his gloves, unwrapped and pulled on another pair. He took one of four sealed packets and peeled the wrapping apart. He removed from it a small capped syringe, made from transparent plastic, filled with clear fluid and without a needle, and placed it on the paper. He opened the second packet and took out a piece of hollow plastic with a covered needle on the end. On the top was a grey three-pronged handle. Beneath this, was a piece of semi-transparent plastic which looked like a butterfly's wings. At the opposite end to the needle was a white capped opening, the cap of which held the needle, allowing it to be inserted completely through the object into a thin, narrow, partial encasing of plastic. At the right side of the grey top was another capped opening. He removed the needle's cover, being careful not to touch the needle, and put the object beside the syringe. Taking the third and largest packet, he removed another syringe – this one was empty and had no needle. Herbert took the phial, unplugged the cork from the top and tipped the phial towards him slowly as he steadily absorbed the entire contents into the syringe. He then tapped the syringe to remove any air bubbles, squirted a small amount to check it was flowing and laid it on the paper.

"Constance, I am going to put a cannula in your neck to help you," Herbert said calmly, trying to keep his tone as relaxed as possible. "You'll feel a sharp scratch; just try to keep still and keep breathing as normally as you can."

Constance made no attempt to react to his voice.

He repositioned himself almost exactly at the back of Constance's head and delicately turned her head a little more, so it was now fully directed to her left and tilted back slightly. He opened the remaining smallest square packet, removed an alcohol wipe and swabbed her neck area clean, waiting several seconds for it to dry. Pressing lightly, with his left index finger just above her right clavicle, they watched as her vein became more prominent under his weight. Using his left thumb, while keeping his forefinger in place, he applied traction, creating a tautening effect on her jugular vein on the right-hand underside of her jawline. Taking the grey cannula with his right hand, he inserted it into the middle of the space between his thumb and forefinger in a shallow, downward angle, directed towards the middle of her clavicle. A small amount of blood flowed backwards into the hub towards the exit. He continued to gently push the cannula further into her vein, then gradually removed the needle from the centre completely, leaving the plastic narrow tube beneath her skin. He quickly removed the needle from the cap and replaced the cap on the end of the cannula. Setting the discarded needle carefully on the paper, he took the syringe of clear fluid, removed its cap, checked the solution was airless, opened the capped end of the cannula and injected some of the liquid into it and capped it closed. He turned the valve on the top, opened and injected a little more into the adjacent right side, then capped it off, turning the valve once more. Satisfied the cannula was functioning correctly, he took the roll of tape from the paper towel, ripped off a few sufficiently sized pieces and taped the cannula securely in her neck. Herbert then picked up the syringe containing the potion from the phial, checked it again to make absolutely certain no air was trapped, reopened the capped end opposite the inserted tube and plunged the mixture into her bloodstream. Using the remaining clear liquid in the other syringe, he checked it once more, then flushed the cannula clean and resealed the opening.

"Mildred!" Amelia prompted her pupil.

Mildred reached and picked up the already open and awaiting Almanac. She began to recite the words which were reappearing before her eyes:

"_Won Ti Si Eht Emit Ot Peels a Lleps Ot Peek Uoy Efas …_"

Amelia stared at her in amazement as the unfamiliar words flowed from her lips …

"_Evomer Eht Ssenkrad Dleh Nihtiw Litnu Eht Emit Uoy Ekaw …_"

Mildred finished and looked up.

Slowly, a haze of white light surrounded Constance's body, vanishing within seconds.

"Now what?" Mildred said quietly, staring at her form mistress.

"Now … we wait …" Herbert replied softly, glancing at Amelia.

Amelia met his eyes, wondering the exact same thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**UPDATED: 1ST APRIL 2009**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 10**

* * *

Enid looked at Ethel and Maud. They were both sitting quietly. Ethel was staring up at the portraits hanging from the walls, and Maud was watching Herbert attending to Constance. Enid then glanced at the glacial bodies of the rest of the school at the opposite end of the Great Hall, absolutely oblivious to what was happening.

Imogen was propped against the stage behind Amelia, her legs curled into her chest and her arms wrapped around them.

Amelia was kneeling beside Constance's head, once again on her right. She was softly stroking her deputy's forehead, tears flowing noiselessly down her face.

Mildred was at Amelia's right next to Enid, who was still pinning the towels in place. Mildred had Constance's hand clasped in hers.

Davina had lightened the outermost rooms with as many lanterns and candles as she could find. She had then gone outside, shooting stardust into the sky. The flames flickering in the windows. The sparks surrounding the castle. A guiding light for the air ambulance in the densely clouded evening sky.

The room was almost silent, yet it was a disturbing atmosphere. Only the unnerving sounds of each strained breath from Constance and the occasional rustling of a packet opening were heard to break the thick, fraught air surrounding them.

Herbert finished taping in place a second identical cannula, now inserted into the left side of Constance's neck. He turned to his bag beside him, by which he had stood a pint-sized yellow tub, with a two-inch-squared slit in the red lid. He placed all his used and discarded objects into it.

Amelia's eyes followed Herbert as he took two single plastic bags of clear liquid from his rucksack. Each was about the size of an elongated two-pound bag of sugar, with black printed writing on them. At the top of each bag was a hole in the middle outer edge of the plastic with which to hang them. At the bottom of each bag were two, inch-long, rubber-capped tubes. He then took two more packets. He unwrapped them carefully, removing and stretching out a thin length of transparent tubing from each. On one end of each long tube was attached a small, cylindrical piece of hollow plastic, also transparent, topped with a white spiked lid. Beneath this was another rectangular piece of white plastic, with a rolling blue circle sticking out. The rest of the tubing then led to a covered connection port on the other end.

Herbert made certain the rolling circle was in the correct position, removed one of the stoppers from the base of one bag and pushed the spiked lid into the port, being careful not to touch the end as it went in. He did the same with the other one, leaving the remaining tubes from the bases of both bags sealed.

"Can you make the drips hover about four feet high?"

Amelia looked up at his anxious face and flicked her wrist: the bags immediately shot into the air.

Kneeling up, he removed the cap from the connection port on the end of the long tubing, turned the rolling circle in the opposite direction and gently squeezed the floating bag, allowing for a small amount of liquid to flow through the entire length of the tubing and drip out of the end. Stopping the flow with the circle, he scrutinised the tubing – checking for any air bubbles – and then attached the tubing to the left-hand side cannula in Constance's neck. He then did the same with the other bag, attaching it to the right-hand side cannula. Releasing the rolling circles once more on each, he activated the fastest flow from the bags.

"We need to push the fluid in as quickly as possible – can you magically squeeze them?"

Amelia flicked her wrist again: the bags became compressed as if invisible hands were crushing them.

"What … what are they?"

"It's saline solution – to try and keep her volume up. It's … I'm not as well-equipped as a paramedic … and … I've only one more. I … I've been out all day. It's … it's all I have left, Amelia," he answered quietly. "Do you happen to know her actual blood type?"

"I … I've no idea, I –"

Herbert continued his mental checklist, not fully recalling the previously given information just over a week ago. "Does she have any allergies that you know of? Is she on any medication?"

"I don't think so," Amelia replied, shaking her head.

Herbert's eyes were solemn. "What about family?"

"I … I don't believe there is anyone." Amelia began to stare again at the scars. "Where … where did they …?" She seemed to be directing the question more to herself, rather than anyone else. She cleared her throat, sensing the two girls beside her listening and watching.

Herbert took a large, thickly woven orange blanket out of his rucksack and covered Constance's legs with it on top of the others in an effort to conserve what remained of her rapidly dropping body temperature. He then rummaged for a strong pair of scissors and cut her upper dress and black chemise as much as he could in order to examine her injuries further. Very delicately, he palpated and listened to Constance's chest and abdomen, trying to hide the panic on his face.

He wrapped his stethoscope around his neck. "Do you know her exact height? Weight? When did she last eat?"

"Um … I don't know … five foot ten, maybe?" Amelia estimated. "She … um … she's not been eating much for … for weeks."

He looked at Constance. "She can't weigh much more than eight-and-a-half stone – if that. She's lost more since I saw her last," he added, noting that her hip bones were markedly visible through the material. Herbert cut off her scrunched up left sleeve and tossed the slippery cloth to the side. Next to his rucksack was an instrument. Herbert picked it up. It consisted of a folded piece of black fabric with a Velcro fastening, to which were attached two black tubes, one leading to a small balloon and the other leading to a small measuring dial. He took the folded cuff, unwrapped it and reattached it snugly around the top of Constance's left arm. He put on his stethoscope and placed the hearing drum on her inner, lower arm, just beneath her elbow crease. He turned the small metal valve between the join of the balloon and tubing and then pumped the balloon, watching as the cuff tightened to the required capacity. He then reversed the valve's direction, slowly releasing the air, while studying the gauge closely as he listened attentively.

He grimaced. "I can't hear well enough to get a proper reading …" Herbert removed his stethoscope from his ears, letting the earpieces remain loosely clamped around his neck. Leaving the cuff in place on her arm, he took her wrist, turned it to face fully upwards and positioned his left index and middle fingers on her pulse. He repeated his previous action with the valve, before pumping until the cuff constricted her arm adequately. He then gradually released the air and watched the gauge once more, his fingers remaining all the time on her wrist. He nodded slightly.

"She's still got a radial. It's incredibly weak, but it's there."

Amelia shrugged a little, barely taking in the information.

Herbert cleared his throat. "Her blood pressure, Amelia. It is very low, but she is maintaining it."

Amelia looked down and continued to stroke Constance's forehead, staring at her closed eyes. Despite herself, Amelia could not help but wonder how many more times Constance would open them … before she no longer could.

Constance's face was now beyond pale, a bluey-grey, her breathing deteriorating.

"S-she moved," Mildred croaked.

"Constance? Can you hear me, Constance?" Herbert took the small torch out of his shirt pocket, then gently opened her eyelids and shone it in each eye. "Both pupils are still equal and reactive." He replaced the torch in his pocket, and then looked up sharply as his attention was quickly caught by his patient.

Constance had begun to breathe progressively arduously.

Amelia felt her throat constrict with fear as she watched the unexpected change in Constance's condition worsen before her eyes.

"W-what's** happening** to her?"

Herbert quickly grabbed his stethoscope from around his neck and placed it into his ears.

Constance twitched her right hand, which was still in Mildred's. She then took a gurgled gasp for air and expectorated a small mass of blood.

Herbert swiftly removed her clogged oxygen mask, turning her head to her left, making sure her airway was clear. Hastening to use his instrument, he listened and felt in numerous areas of her chest while feeling her neck … and cursed loudly.

"She's developed a tension pneumo …"

Amelia looked up confused yet horrified.

"Her left lung is being compressed by air – I **have** to release the pressure!" Herbert stressed, knowing every second was against him before it killed her.

"But the en—"

"Is only going to work if she's stable in the first place!" he yelled sharply, cutting Amelia off.

Herbert frenetically rummaged through his sealed packets. They watched as he unwrapped and removed another cannula, similar in size to the ones in her neck. This one had a single orange cap on top with a minute hole in the centre and a slightly thicker covered needle, which was from the end of the plastic wings beneath the centre of the cannula about two inches in length, fed through the primary port of the capped cannula. Herbert speedily removed the needle's cover and white cap and placed the cap face-up on the clean paper towel still beside him from the second cannulation.

Mildred gulped. She quickly glanced at Enid.

Enid seemed to be frozen to the spot, silent and rigid in her pose.

Amelia was watching Constance's lower neck and chest, staring at the continuing inch-long and slightly curved scars on her greying, blue-tinged skin. Her eyes flew to two pinhead-sized purple dots, located close together just beneath her trachea, which seemed to have moved a little towards Constance's right. Viewing downwards, she looked to a few small, round scars on her left collarbone.

Constance was barely breathing. Mildred had initially felt her hand being clutched tightly, followed by an inward jolt of fright as Constance suddenly released her grip. Mildred kept a hold of her hand firmly, even though Constance was more than likely unaware of the procedure taking place.

Herbert hastily located the centre of her left clavicle and counted on her ribcage a couple of spaces downwards, then steadily plunged the instrument at a perpendicular angle straight into her chest cavity. Air instantly hissed from the cannula. Constance almost immediately drew breath, her respiration beginning to regulate, albeit raspy and exhausted. Herbert slid the cannula's plastic covering more firmly into place and removed the needle from the centre. Taking his stethoscope again, he listened intently, and then nodded, exhaling deeply.

"Got it." Reaching for a packet, he unwrapped a sterile syringe, small and without a needle, and placed the nozzle into the cannula. He withdrew on the injection plunger to remove any last particles of air, removed the syringe and replaced the cannula's cap. He then unwrapped a sterile piece of gauze, secured the outside of the tubing and taped it in place. "That will be okay for the time being." Taking another packet, he unwrapped and attached a fresh mask and tubing onto the oxygen cylinder, discarding the blocked one, and, after wiping the majority of the blood residue from her face, tenderly replaced it to its previous position, having had simply no time to do it before due to the sheer urgency of the situation. Again he listened to her heart and breathing, checking her neck pulse. "She's breathing a little better now." He sighed and wiped his forehead with his upper arm in considerable relief.

"She just squeezed my hand." Mildred sniffed, squeezing back.

"Constance?" Amelia whispered, trying not to reveal the uneasiness in her voice. She cleared her throat.

Constance very gradually opened her eyes. She took a few moments to focus. Turning her head to the right, she looked up first at Mildred, then Amelia, Enid and back to Herbert.

"I … t-t-thought I … t-t-told … y-y-you I … w-w-was f-f-fine …" she said to him.

Herbert gave a small laugh kindly. He smiled down at her … Within moments his face started to drop, his expression changing to one of pure terror, his eyes widening as he noticed the blood rapidly increasing through the compressed material. It was coming so fast, he knew that the drips he had set up wouldn't be enough to replenish the amount of fluid she was losing. They couldn't do anything until the enchantment kicked in, and, as yet, it wasn't obvious to him that it was working, if at all.

"Here," he addressed Enid, reaching for a bulky pad of white material from his rucksack. "Wrap this around, press a little harder." Enid very gently released her taut fingers as Herbert unfolded and wound a new wad of bandage in place. She quickly wiped her eyes with her knuckles before returning her hands to their previous location.

"A-Amelia, I … I … h-h-have … t-t-to … t-t-tell … y-y—" Constance closed her eyes, not finishing the sentence. Amelia glanced at Herbert. He met her tense gaze.

"Herbert, could I have a quick word?" Amelia got up, leaving Mildred and Enid talking to Constance. She and Herbert walked a short distance away to be out of earshot.

Constance gave a little cry, the discomfort she was feeling apparent on her face. Mildred clamped both her hands fixedly around Constance's right, holding it close.

A soft thud sounded within the room. Both drip bags had dropped to the floor. Amelia swore under her breath. She flicked her wrist. They remained in their places.

"There must be some interference …" she surmised, somewhat puzzled.

Before Imogen could move, Maud and Ethel instantly stood up and approached, each taking a bag and continuing where the spell left off. Neither could take their eyes off Constance. The four pupils continued to talk reassuringly to their form mistress, all struggling to cover the shakiness of their speech.

"**Amelia**?" Herbert snapped her back to attention.

"Oh – er – she's half awake – does that mean the enchantment has done its job? I thought she was meant to be completely asleep?" She wiped her face with her hands.

"Amelia, it … it doesn't appear to be working. She is losing more fluid than I can replace. The sooner she is in hospital, the better. Don't any of you have to skills to … zap her there, so to speak?"

Amelia shook her head. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, only Constance herself can … but … her magic's … and she … C-can't you? Imogen said you were a wizard?"

"Yes and no – even though I am additionally qualified in the understanding of the magical implications of the various spells and potions, I am not a practically trained wizard. I only know the elementary basics of actually performing magic; I don't even have a staff. I don't want to risk giving her painkillers until I really have to as I need to know whether it is the enchantment making her drowsy or the drugs, plus the painkillers may affect her respiration. According to her letter it is **essential** the enchantment takes effect before we can do anything about the weapon. I would assume she needs to be completely unresponsive. She … she may also stop breathing …"

Amelia looked at him in horror. Herbert lowered his voice.

"This is not something I have dealt with before, Amelia. I do not know how she is supposed to react."

Constance released a small wail of pain, opening her eyes.

"A-Amelia …"

"Miss Cackle – she's asking for you," Mildred summoned Amelia loudly.

Amelia and Herbert ran over to her quickly.

"I'm coming … I'm here, Constance, I'm here …"

Maud and Ethel positioned themselves back a little, stretching the drips' tubing out to their full length.

"A-Amelia, I … I –" Constance gasped. "I … h-h-have … t-t-to … t-t-tell y-you …" Her faltering speech was muffled slightly by the mask. She coughed and a little more blood spattered out.

"I really think you should save your strength, Constance," Herbert advised softly.

Constance threw him a glare of contempt, though it was fair to say it was lacking in her usual vehemence.

"A-Amelia … l-l-listen … t-to m-m-me …" She cried out in pain. Mildred grasped her hand tighter.

"H-have … y-you … r-r-removed … m-my … m-m-magic?"

"We've done it, Constance. Mildred gave us your note," Amelia assured her.

Constance closed her eyes … _Thank God._ Her tormented thoughts were barely registering long enough for her to reason them out, and needed to be certain that all her magic was truly extracted as she could hardly feel anything. Anything but the Dagger.

She cried out again. Herbert cursed and began rummaging through his things.

Amelia had knelt once again beside Constance's head. She was gently shushing her deputy, stroking her brow.

"A-Amelia … I m-may … n-not h-h-have t-t-time … t-to s-say e-e-everything I … n-n-need t-t-to … s-so … y-you … m-must l-l-listen … c-c-careful—" Constance was drifting off. Her face was practically grey and lips outlined in blue.

Herbert was quickly disinfecting the tops of his bottles of medication with another alcohol wipe.

"Constance, Mildred has told us what to do, please just rest, Constance …"

"A-AME-lia!" Constance half shouted, half gasped her name. "L-l-listen t-t-to … m-m-me …"

"Constance, we know Agatha was the one to poison you. She took over Phyllis's body to get to us."

"A-Amelia … t-t-they're … n-n-not f-f-finshed y-yet …"

"Constance, it's all right. We've removed your magic as a precaution and Herbert and Mildred have given you the potion and performed the incantation. Dear, **please** rest …"

"A-A-Amelia … i-i-if … I … d-d-die …"

Amelia burst into tears, unable to prevent them spilling out. "CONSTANCE, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE!"

Constance screamed out in agony. Herbert had already unwrapped two new syringes, both with needles ready on the end. Removing the needle's cover from one, he took a small bottle in his hand, turned it upside-down, plunged the needle into the silver top, measured the required amount, tapped it, pressed it, removed the needle and placed the syringe on a paper towel. He did the same with another bottle of medication. Stopping the drip flow, he turned the valve on top of the left-hand side cannula in her neck and uncapped the side port. Double-checking the hypodermic once more, he injected the contents into her bloodstream and then repeated with the second syringe. He then capped the opening off and reset the drip flow.

"It's some painkillers and anti-emetics – to stop her vomiting," he added, noticing their enquiring faces.

Constance inhaled as deep a breath as she could manage, opening her eyes.

"M-Mi-l?"

"I'm here, I've got you …" Mildred leaned nearer to her. The knot in her stomach tightened further as she sensed a difference in her teacher. As Constance's expression changed, Mildred's heartbeat quickened as she realised what Constance was wordlessly telling her.

"**No **… NO! Don't you let go … You have to hang on … please … **don't let go **…" Mildred saw a tear trickle down the side of her teacher's right eye.

"I n-n-need y-y-you … t-t-to … t-t-tell … A-A-Ame-lia … t-t-tell h-her w-why I … s-s-so … s-s-she … u-u-under-stands … A-A-Amelia … t-t-take c-c-care … o-o-of … h-h-he—"

Mildred nodded. "I will, but you're not going to … Miss? MISS!"

Constance's eyes closed and she gave a small exhalation, her head slumping as her hand became limp in Mildred's.

Herbert was still kneeling beside Constance. "CONSTANCE, CAN YOU HEAR ME?" He pinched her right collarbone. She did not react.

Mildred was becoming virtually hysterical. "She … She's stopped breathing … She's STOPPED BREATHING!"

Herbert listened to Constance's chest, simultaneously feeling her neck before looking beneath her eyelids. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed another bottle and ripped a fresh syringe pack open, removed the needle's cover, held the bottle upside-down and quickly stabbed the needle in sealed top. He withdrew a measurement, checked it, removed the needle, adjusted the cannula and injected it rapidly into her system.

They watched as several second ticked by, waiting for a signal it was working …

Constance suddenly took an ineffective gasp. She was scarcely responding. Herbert replicated his actions with another two bottles of medication.

"Oh, God … my God, Constance …" Amelia howled.

Mildred looked on in terror as Constance failed to take another breath. "Do something …"

Herbert stared at her blue-tinged lips, sweat bucketing out of him as he continued to feel her pulse: listening, waiting, watching … and praying for the medication to take effect.

"WILL YOU FUCKING WELL DO SOMETHING!" Mildred screamed, jolting him back to full alertness.

"Imogen – I'm going to need your assistance with this," Herbert requested loudly.

Imogen rushed over to beside Constance's right. Amelia moved away. Maud and Ethel split: Maud went directly to Constance's lower right to stand behind Mildred, Ethel to her lower left, both out of Herbert's way.

Herbert was tearing open his rucksack's front compartment, fumbling around and muttering under his breath. He pulled out a long, thick, cylindrical metal handle to which was attached a slightly longer piece of almost inch-wide, tapered flat metal, bent downwards like a banana. He grabbed a towel and set the instrument down on it. From the same pocket he removed and unwrapped a thin and curved hollow tube, made from transparent plastic and about ten inches in length. Running through this tube was a piece of wire. The wire emerged into a looped curl at one end, but the remainder didn't quite reach all the way down to the bottom of the inner tube. At the bottom end of the tube was a small, inflatable cuff of plastic, which was wrapped around the outer tube like a flat donut. Attached to the side of the tube was another transparent tube, extremely thin, with a blue port on the end. He put it beside the metal object.

"Take off the mask and turn off the canister. I want you to hold her head tilted back and very still – don't let it move. Leave the blanket under her head and neck," Herbert uttered hurriedly to Imogen.

He then took and unwrapped a very small syringe with no needle, picked up the tube and injected a small amount of air into the tiny tube's valve within the blue port to inflate the cuff, making sure there were no leaks. Deflating it, he left the syringe attached and laid the tube on the towel. Finally, he took from his rucksack a large, solid-looking, partially transparent blue plastic item, shaped like an oval balloon. It had a plastic connector at one end and a piece of plastic connected to a flat plastic bag at the other, which, like the bag on the oxygen mask, was almost white in colour. He set it aside. Squatting down directly behind Constance's head, he picked up and locked the metal apparatus rigid, then clicked on the small light, shining it on his concave inner palm to check it was working. Imogen was holding Constance's head and neck back and stiff.

"Open her mouth fully."

Imogen did as instructed, pulling Constance's chin downwards.

"Bend her head ever so slightly towards her chest … that's it, hold it there!" Using his left hand, Herbert placed the metal instrument into her mouth, manoeuvring it within her mouth and down her throat, while simultaneously using his right hand to open her jaw a little more.

"Damn! I can hardly see her cords – her throat is stained with blood."

"P-please, please k-keep t-trying …" Amelia pleaded. She was sitting behind Enid, sobbing profusely.

Wiping the perspiration from his brow with his upper arm, he pulled out and replaced the metal scope … within several seconds he picked up and guided the tubing down with his right hand … "I'm in!" Herbert slid the long piece of tubing deep into Constance's throat as he steadily removed the scope. Working speedily yet meticulously, he pulled out the looped metal from the inside, took hold of the syringe and injected the air back into the smaller, thin tube to re-inflate the cuff now in Constance's windpipe. He then took the oval blue balloon and connected it onto the end of the larger tube in Constance's mouth. He pumped the balloon a couple of times, watching as her chest rose and fell and double-checking the tube's connection.

"Imogen, squeeze this blue bag every four seconds – not too quickly – I don't want to hyperventilate her." Imogen shifted slightly as Herbert placed his stethoscope on Constance's chest and abdomen, listening and feeling in numerous areas. Rechecking her head's positioning, he removed the syringe from the thin tube's blue port before again feeling her neck pulse and looking under her eyelids. He addressed Amelia. "Truthfully, I don't know if this is the enchantment working, the trauma, or a reaction to the drugs." He picked up the cylinder of oxygen with a view to adding the flow to the bag. "Damn it! It's nearly empty … We need the paramedics as soon as –"

All of a sudden there was a loud drilling and whooshing noise coming from outside …

"THEY'RE HERE, THEY'RE HERE!" Davina shouted a minute later, running into the room.

In close pursuit a team of three people dressed in red overalls and with fluorescent white stripes on their uniformed limbs followed her. They were wearing white helmets and clutching large green bags and white boxes. Two of them were holding a stiff, robust metal-rimmed stretcher between them.

"What's her GCS?"

"What's her BP?"

"How long has she been intubated?"

"How much fluid loss?"

The questions from the paramedics were flowing around the teachers and pupils, barely registering with their minds as the team approached the scene.

"Amelia, do you know anything else that can help us? What's her full name and date of birth? Is there any other medical history?" Herbert asked urgently.

Mildred was completely oblivious to the din around her. She was still compactly holding Constance's thin, cold and lifeless hand while Herbert talked the team through what had occurred. She was staring at her colourless face, at her still bluish lips, at the tube coming from her mouth, and at the blood, tears streaming down from her red eyes.

Davina bent down and took hold of Constance's left hand.

"Oh, for crying out loud – she's freezing! Didn't you at least try the Thermal Charm, Amelia?" Davina snapped sharply in disbelief, somewhat confounded as it seemed the most rational thing to do.

"I … I … n-never t-t-thought," Amelia stuttered, guilt immediately hammering her mind.

Herbert glanced up, his conscience pricking at his own negligence in failing to remember something so simple.

Imogen was still behind Constance's head, continuously pressing the blue bag and inaudibly counting out each pause in the sequence. Enid was equally compressing the towels, and Maud and Ethel wringing the depleting drips. All of them appeared the same: silent, shaken and white as a sheet.

Davina crouched by Constance's feet. She lifted the blankets and felt her icy legs, muttering words under her breath. She let out a sob as her spell failed to take effect.

"It won't work," she whimpered despairingly.

Enid and Amelia made way for the team. Mildred didn't move.

"Mildred … Mildred, dear … you have to let go now," Amelia encouraged her softly. "They need to take her to hospital …"

"I'm going with her," Mildred replied firmly.

"Mildred, I … I really don't thin—"

"I'M GOING WITH HER!"

Amelia stared at Mildred, a mixture of surprise and deep concern on her face.

Imogen nodded to Amelia.

"All right … all right … You will fly with me. We shall follow the air ambulance," Amelia agreed, glancing down at her deputy.

Mildred slowly released her rigid hands from around Constance's. As she broke contact, she immediately flopped backwards, taking a small gasp as she fell momentarily limp. One of the paramedics caught her and helped sit her against the stage.

"Take some deep breaths, honey. Keep an eye on her," she told Amelia.

Both drips abruptly jerked from the girls' hands and resumed their previous location.

Amelia sat beside Mildred while the two female paramedics and Herbert attended to Constance. The remaining male paramedic was constructing various bits of equipment ready for use. Enid, Ethel and Maud made their way over to Davina, who was now standing with her back to the adjacent wall, her right hand across her mouth. She put her other arm around Ethel, who was now quivering violently, and pulled her closer into her embrace.

Constance was lifted very carefully onto the stiff stretcher. Herbert had taken over from Imogen in ventilating her – the breathing tube now taped firmly in place and fresh oxygen connected – as the team managed to gain an electronic reading of her blood pressure, while simultaneously hooking up more drips of saline as Amelia released her reworking spell completely. They wrapped her in another orange blanket, exercising extreme vigilance towards the Dagger's precarious positioning, and then fastened her on securely, taking it in turns to maintain her breathing as they gathered up the equipment between them. Herbert placed his chaotically repacked rucksack onto his back before resuming her ventilation. Amelia followed as they hurriedly left the Great Hall. Two of them were carrying the stretcher with Herbert alongside, pressing the blue bag with his right hand and holding the top of the drips with his left, as the third managed to carry the remaining apparatus. Once the team had her placed safely in the air ambulance, they took off from the school courtyard in the yellow-and-green checked helicopter. Amelia went back inside.

Mildred was sitting on the cold wooden floor by the pool of blood. She had Constance's cloak in her arms. Imogen had her head in her hands. Davina was crouched on the ground with Enid, Ethel and Maud. Agatha, Bindweed and Coldstone were all still under their enchantments inside the cage at the far left side of the Hall.

Amelia removed the pool of blood from the floor with a wave of her hand.

"Imogen, could you please see that all the girls are all right and put to bed, especially the Pentangle's; I think they may have been under her control for quite some time."

Imogen nodded slightly, then began to make a series of retching noises and bolted from the room.

Amelia swallowed forcefully and took a deep breath.

"Agatha and her partners are to remain exactly where they are for the time being. I have Constance's phial of magic with me; they can do nothing without that … or her …" She flicked her wrist: the cage and its occupants became surrounded by a conjured black curtain, safe from the sight of the pupils and judges, but still somewhat conspicuous. Amelia hoped her staff could usher them from the room before they wanted to know what was beneath it.

"Davina, look after Enid, Ethel and Maud. Stay with them tonight and take my bedchamber. They've had a great shock."

_Haven't we all, _Davina thought as she nodded. She looked at the three girls huddled together beside her. They were holding each other's hands, tears falling mutely down their faces, all three shaking uncontrollably.

"Come on, let's get you out of here," Davina muttered softly, gently reaching for Ethel's trembling arm. "Do you want to see your dad, Ethel?"

Ethel shook her head resolutely.

Amelia nodded. She watched as the four left the room, relieved that Ethel did not want to involve her father at this precise moment in time.

Davina re-entered a few minutes later.

"I will remove the spell once you've gone. Imogen is coming shortly," Davina said, having left the girls snuggled together on Amelia's bed, still shaking. "I … er … I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off."

Amelia shook her head. "Doesn't matter … I … I can't believe I never thought of it."

Imogen came back into the room. She leaned over to the ground, picking up the excess towels and blankets, general debris and her bloodied jacket, trying not to retch the remaining bile in her stomach.

Amelia looked over towards the area where the blood had been. She wiped a tear from her face and turned. "Mildred, let's go."


	11. Chapter 11

**UPDATED: 13****TH**** APRIL 2009**

**WARNING: GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 11**

* * *

Mildred replaced the shimmering Almanac in her amply sized inner cloak pocket and buttoned the top flap. HB said to protect it, so protect it she would.

She and Amelia pulled their cloaks tightly around them. It had taken them only minutes to prepare themselves to fly, after a brief, silently executed Clean-Up Spell had been cast upon the pair, removing the still-moist stains of blood from their clothing and hands.

Amelia readjusted her summoned black leather handbag more onto her shoulder, held across her body beneath her cloak, and began muttering several words. Mildred lifted her bowed head as she finished, meeting Amelia's eyes.

"It's … called t-the … the Thermal Charm. It … it's very c-cold tonight," Amelia mumbled softly, tears trickling down her cheeks.

The pair made sure their hats were on securely, mounted their broomsticks and flew swiftly up into the deepening twilight, the spell surrounding their bodies with comforting heat. They arrived at the hospital approximately forty-five minutes after the air ambulance, having followed the sparkling dust particles left in the air by Herbert. It took them about sixty minutes' flying time.

Herbert was waiting for them as they walked through the accident and emergency entrance. His face was grave.

Mildred caught his gaze and began to shake violently. "No … **no **… Don't say it … d-don't you say it …"

"She … she arrested in the ambulance …"

Amelia looked at him in dread.

"Her heart stopped beating. We defib— … We shocked her four times. We got her back … but … they are working on her now …"

Mildred couldn't take the strain any longer. She felt the world fade into darkness as her legs buckled beneath her. Amelia and Herbert caught her as she fainted.

* * *

"Mildred? Mildred, open your eyes, dear."

Amelia was hovering over her. Mildred continued to open her eyes in stages, breathing steadily as her hazy vision cleared. She glanced around. She was on a white bed in a small, private treatment room. The room was tidy, yet compact with numerous items, and the overhead rectangular panelled lighting was fairly dim, with no audible outside noise. She attempted to sit up.

"Lie down, Mildred – you don't want to faint again," Amelia said as she gently pushed her back. "Just rest yourself for a few minutes, at least, dear."

"M-M-Miss H-Hardbroom … is … is s-she?"

"She is alive, Mildred … but Constance is critically ill … we … could still –" Amelia paused to prevent her voice cracking further before continuing. "She is in surgery … they are doing what they can."

Mildred lounged back into the pillows, noticing her cloak draped across the base of the bed beneath her teacher's. Their hats were nowhere to be seen. Amelia pulled up a blue-cushioned, square-backed and narrow-armed chair beside the bed, then poured a small glass of water into a plastic tumbler from the recently placed blue-lidded jug on the bedside locker and offered it to her.

"Here, Mildred. Try and have a sip."

Mildred reluctantly took the glass and swallowed a gulp of fluid. Gipping immediately with a surge of nausea, she promptly handed Amelia the tumbler before abruptly shooting upright.

"I … I … t-think I need t—" Mildred grabbed the cardboard bowl from the locker beside her and was violently sick.

Amelia rushed forwards and held Mildred's windswept plaits back, talking to her reassuringly while trying not to vomit herself.

Mildred finished heaving and sank back onto the bed lethargically.

Amelia waved her right hand and removed the mess that had been produced. She walked over to the white sink in the corner of the room, passing various trolleys of equipment, and wet a few paper towels taken from the dispenser attached to the wall above. She made her way back over to the bed and gently patted Mildred's perspiring face with the dampened towels, conjuring her a couple of tissues. She sat down on the chair as Mildred blew her nose.

For several moments there was silence between them as Mildred shut her eyes and allowed the remaining queasiness to gradually decrease.

"Mildred … do you feel strong enough yet to explain all this to me?" Amelia asked hesitantly after a number of minutes. Despite her profound concern for her pupil, Amelia was now beyond desperate for some … for **any** kind of enlightenment on the night's events.

Mildred obligingly opened her eyes. After taking a tiny sip of water, she took a few more deep breaths and sat herself up against the pillows.

"M-Miss –" She cleared her throat. "Miss Hardbroom came to my room last night after I took the potion. She said that when the competition was announced, she couldn't shake the feeling of something untoward brewing. It wasn't until yesterday evening when Miss Pentangle arrived that she began to realise there was something going on. Her owl seemed to freak out and appeared desperate to get away the second she entered the building. Then when Miss Pentangle asked her how she was, she became suspicious. She said that she could for split seconds see Agatha's glasses instead of Phyllis's, and that she thought the Chameleon Spell must have been used on them to prevent others seeing what was really there. When I got ill, she knew immediately what had caused it and made a counter potion. She later checked her Almanac and found that the book had been tampered with. She had previously put enchantments on the book to alert her if it was ever found, and to identify who had done it and what they had looked at. Her Detectification Spell had been completely removed. When she opened the book her Recognication Spell revealed that the Magical Imprint was Agatha's and that Agatha had copied the book. She realised that Agatha must have been behind my poisoning, and when she asked about Fenella and I said she really wanted me to take the potion the pieces started falling into place. She told me that Agatha's Magical Imprint had been on the pages of Body Switching, Superior Psyche Domination and – and the pages of the Soul Dagger …"

Mildred gabbled her explanation very, very quickly, jumping straight from one thing to the next without a break for air in between. Amelia, unsurprisingly, appeared considerably flummoxed.

"Mildred … could you slow down a bit, please? Just … tell me at your own pace."

Mildred paused to take a few breaths. Amelia gazed at her, worry spreading across her face.

"She said that although the book had been copied by Agatha, Agatha would not have realised she could only access the … the visible enchantments. She conjured her book last night and told me to pick it up and open it to the blank pages at the back. When … when I did the book glowed red and spells, incantations and potions started to appear. She said I was the only one who could perform the counter enchantments needed to defeat Agatha and try and stop the Soul Dagger's effects …" Mildred trailed off.

Amelia looked up to her pupil, who was now crying, tears running in teeming droplets down her face.

"Mildred, you can stop for a whil—"

"No, I'm okay." Mildred sniffed and wiped her eyes with her crumpled tissues.

Amelia, rather unsure what to say, decided to start at the beginning with the one thing she clearly remembered before her mind became a virtual blank: her deputy's, now unquestionably life-saving, actions.

"When … last night … how … did she know about the … um … poisonous potion …?" Amelia knew her deputy's knowledge of potions, especially obscure ones, was consummate, but even Constance had never reacted in such a way before upon identifying a concoction; she had looked scared to death.

Mildred shuffled uncomfortably on the bed. "I … I'd rather not say …"

"Mildred, I think under the circumstances … that maybe …"

"I'd … I'd really rather not, Miss …"

"Mildred … **please **… will you tell me the truth."

Mildred inhaled and exhaled deeply, mentally preparing herself to resume speaking.

"Because … because of what happened when she was my age. She … she recognised the … the A-Asthmaticularis Potion used on me because it was the same one her aunt used on her when she was fifteen."

Amelia clasped her hand to her mouth: whatever it was she thought she was expecting to hear, it was not what had been offered. "Her **aunt**?"

"Her … um … her aunt is H-Henbane Broomhead and … and her twin is –" Mildred stopped as Amelia gasped loudly in shock. Mildred had expected as much, and it was not making explaining the connection any easier.

Amelia then looked at her puzzled. "Mildred, don't you mean Hecketty?"

Mildred sighed. "Hecketty is Henbane's twin sister."

"I … w-we … s-she never said … s-she …" Amelia stuttered.

"Her parents died when she was nine … and … she was forced to go and live with her Aunt Henbane because Hecketty resided at the Witch Training College. They told her she had no other known family. They are her mother's sisters. She … she … I think she … was almost d-dead before the remedy was f-forced into her throat …" Mildred wiped away another tear.

Amelia, seeing Mildred's reaction to the answered question, moved on to the second query in line.

"And … how … um … did she know you could read the b—?"

"She didn't tell me," Mildred replied briskly. She would not look Amelia in the eye.

Amelia sensed her obvious reluctance to reveal more. Her head was beginning to spin from trying to keep up with Mildred's jumbled story. She took a steadying breath and continued from the last thread of information.

"But … Hecketty? I recognised her as another girl – didn't I?"

Mildred shook her head. "It – er – it turns out the other girl was actually an … an outer shell, so to speak. Hecketty had a magical Witchover so she wouldn't be recognised. She and Henbane needed to be split at school because they caused so much trouble together, so she was given the pretence of Wilhelmina Wormwood to attend your school to continue her years, but she was later expelled."

Amelia slouched a little, her mind wandering away in thought, despite herself, as she reflected back on her schooldays.

"Yes … um … she was a few years above me. I was eight, she was eleven or twelve, I think. The school took us from six onwards until we graduated. She was there less than a year as I recall. She … she was a horrible, horrible child," she added darkly, remembering.

"I thought you went to Cackle's?" Mildred said quietly.

"No … no, um, Granny and Mother didn't actually establish it as a school until nineteen sixty-six."

Amelia leaned back in her chair, tears now flowing endlessly down her own face.

"I … I never knew … all this time … nearly seventeen years … Oh, **God **… when Hecketty inspected the school … No wonder she reacted they way she did … Oh, Constance …"

Mildred cleared her throat. Every thought and feeling possible was shooting through her mind and body. She felt desperate to alleviate the sheer amount of information in her head, and yet she hardly knew how to continue. How to explain. Or how much to explain.

Amelia wiped her face, coming back to the present. "Please … um … please continue, Mildred."

"S-She … Miss Hardbroom said the Soul Dagger was the most deadly weapon of all magic. She said it had only one purpose: to kill and then remove a person's Magical Soul. Not just surface magic. Every little part of it. She said should Agatha be trying to attack **you**, Miss Cackle, then we needed to have a plan of action. She had realised for certain you were entranced after Miss Pentangle left the staffroom yesterday evening, as she knew deep down you would never put our lives in danger. She guessed that Agatha was Miss Pentangle after seeing what she had been looking at and the suggestion about her health and the attack on me as a diversion. Agatha must have thought she had been so careful and clever she forgot just how many clues she was giving out. She obviously assumed Phyllis's body was enough to avert suspicion. Miss Hardbroom said that even though Agatha had technically broken the Witches' Code, because she did it through another person, she had likely got away with it because of the bylaws. And – and it also meant that the spells to stop her coming into the castle were rendered useless because they couldn't recognise her, and once she was in, she must have removed the protection enchantments pretty much straight away because Miss Hardbroom said they had already been released when she checked."

Amelia sat up and eyed Mildred directly. Her pupil looked sickly pale, as if she could faint again at any minute. But Amelia had to ask. She had to know. And by posing the question in the right way, she hoped Mildred would not pick up on her uncertainty and answer truthfully.

"Mildred, did she know Agatha had planned the Dagger for her?"

Mildred averted her gaze to the floor. "At first I … I didn't twig, I mean, half of the things seemed to fly over my head, but she made it all sound so simple. She said as only I could summon the actual incantation to stop Agatha, then only I could do it … but … I … She … she didn't tell me she knew the Dagger was meant for her … she … she made me think it was meant for you …"

Amelia stared at Mildred: question answered, her face began turning whiter as the revelations of Mildred's tale began to sink in, pummelling her with the same terrifying force as earlier that day.

Mildred carried on. "She told me that I had to create an excuse not to watch the rest of the competition – fake injury – get back to my room and stay there until her evening duel. She told me to tell Maud, Enid and Ethel of her plan to stop Agatha as soon as I could manage to get them away without it being noticed. She knew that Agatha would likely be spiking the drinks over the breaks throughout the day in order to control people later by adding the required incantation to the already ingested potion. She said I needed to stop Maud, Enid and Ethel drinking any until I could tell them what we had to do. I had managed to call them all over to avoid the first break. She tampered with their drinks to make them undrinkable at lunchtime to make sure they didn't swallow any. She said I had to ask them only things they would remember from long ago before telling them anything. If they had been entranced by Agatha, then they would not have been able to answer as she could only access their bodies and minds as they were and not deep memories. She … she said she was trying not to use her remaining strength so that she could try and stop Agatha before she … she …" Mildred stopped, took a breath and cleared her throat once more. "Sh—"

Amelia interrupted. "How did she know **you **were not entranced?"

"She … she asked me a question only I would know. When I answered it she put a counter curse on me – another spell from the Almanac. It prevented the entrancement being applied. She … she collapsed from exhaustion after doing it last night."

Amelia felt shellshocked, unable to fully take in the colossal amount of information she was hearing when it was being so chaotically expressed.

"She told me that if anything went wrong, then I was to recite the Comatosation's activation chant from the Almanac. She said she had prepared the potion part of the Comatosation and the enchanted phial and that they were hidden under a loose floorboard beneath her dressing table, and she told me the spell to recover them. She said that if someone was stabbed by the Dagger, then the only way to prevent the attacker gaining their power was to drain the victim's magic into the phial and put them under the Comatosation, as removing the Dagger without the enchantment being applied would kill them, and if the Dagger was left in, the victim would certainly die and their magic would be transferred."

"But … b-but why didn't she … **s-surely** there w-was another w-way?" Amelia stammered. Mildred was still babbling her account of the events incomprehensibly, and Amelia was now intensely alarmed by her pupil's obvious, and considerably traumatised, state. Mildred had been talking virtually non-stop for such a short time, and yet there was so much to be processed, so much to try and understand. Amelia had questions upon questions, and the one person she wanted; the one person she needed; the one person who could answer them, she knew, with stomach-churning fear, may never awaken again. Amelia shuddered internally as the last thought crossed her mind, glancing up as Mildred began to speak once more.

"S-she … she said as long as Agatha was using part of Phyllis, she couldn't chance really hurting her as it would have caused irreparable damage, and not just to Phyllis's body but Phyllis herself. Agatha was using … she said she was using her like a costume. And the longer Agatha used Phyllis's body, the more damage she would have done to Phyllis's state of mind. And … and that because Agatha could take the enchantment to the next stage, eventually it could even kill Phyllis, and if Phyllis's body was fatally injured, the real Phyllis would die as well because she wouldn't have a body to go back to. She feared for the safety of the real Augusta and Deidre, too. She had suspected they must have been her partners in all of this. She … she said the only way to stop her was when she transformed back to her original self. If she had voiced her concerns to an entranced person, Agatha would have known about it and who knows what she would have done. She said she couldn't risk putting anyone else in danger. She had a feeling the judges had been got at, too. And … she … she didn't have the strength to protect more than one person with the spell to stop Agatha entrancing them. She said that Miss Drill especially was in more danger because she was not a witch and wouldn't be able to defend herself. She told me she wanted to stun her enough to try and remove the enchantments. Agatha had placed so many protections on herself. She … she said if she wasn't able to stop her we had to try and … once Agatha arrived she so quickly became more ill. She … I think s-she knew deep down she would have to be s-stabbed in order for Agatha to t-transform back … she … she … was j-just … s-so w-weak … s-she …"

Amelia stood up from her chair and climbed onto the bed next to Mildred, taking her, once again, near-hysterical pupil in her arms.

Mildred was sobbing in heaving gulps of distress.


	12. Chapter 12

**'Small' Author's Note**

Just to say, firstly, a HUGE thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I honestly have palpitations of utter joy every time, so please keep it up!

In this chapter there are vast amounts of medical details. I am not a doctor or a nurse or even someone as** remotely** clever. I have, however, done my very best to keep as close as possible to actual procedures with regard to the subject matter (in this case VERY hypothetical, lol).

I hope you enjoy it, and thank you all so very much!

NCD :)

Yes, I **am** going to shut up now …

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**UPDATED: 18TH APRIL 2009**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

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**CHAPTER 12**

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A little over seven hours later, Herbert re-entered the room. He had checked back numerous times throughout the night. As well as making certain Mildred had recovered adequately, he was updating both them and his colleagues on the progressing situation.

He had not managed to persuade either of them to eat, nor convinced them to even try a strong cup of sweetened tea.

Amelia was still lying on the bed with Mildred held close in her arms. The pair were both staring into nothingness, their minds unable to focus and filled with constant repetitions of the evening, broken only by the dull ticking of the large wall clock counting the seconds, minutes and hours go by so torturously slowly.

"Amelia, Mildred?" he said quietly.

Amelia and Mildred looked up.

"Constance is now in intensive care –"

Amelia started to speak. Herbert cut in.

"It's all right, Amelia, I sent word to Uncle Algie. He and the Chief Wizard are on their way. Egbert will destroy the Dagger just to make sure, and then they will go back to Cackle's and deal with Agatha –"

Amelia made to speak again, her anxiety and patience reaching its limit.

"Amelia …" Herbert took a deep breath. "Constance is very, very ill. We think she must have entered the full state of Comatosation before we … before we had to restart her heart. I think if she had not been under the enchantment at that point we –" He stopped and swallowed, pausing briefly. "We would have lost her after they removed the Dagger. The surgeons have managed to stop the bleeding and repair the extent of the damage caused. Now, Amelia, when a patient is this ill, and after major surgery, often we will sedate them and keep them mechanically ventilated until they are gradually weaned off the sedatives. This gives their body time to heal, and also ventilation for someone who is conscious would obviously be extremely uncomfortable for them, so it prevents them being anxious and unable to tolerate the tubing. In Constance's case, because of the enchantment complicating matters – as essentially it is acting as heavy sedation – we have decided to let nature take its course. But the thing is … as things stand, with exception to her pupils reacting to light … she is not actively responding to any other stimuli. Effectively, she is completely comatose as the name suggests. And … consequently … she is unable to breathe by herself. We simply do not know what the enchantment will do or how long it will last, nor do we know how much of this is even down to the enchantment. We just … don't know. All we can do is wait … and watch …"

Herbert cleared his throat, trying not to meet the intensely fearful gazes of the two women before him.

"Do you have her phial of blood on you?"

Amelia nodded. She climbed stiffly off the bed and rummaged in her cloak. She removed it from the pocket and passed it to him, then picked up her handbag from the chair beside the bed. She replaced the bag across her body and handed Mildred her cloak.

"As the weapon has been removed successfully, I can give her back her magic. I would think just injecting it straight back into her will be the simplest way. It … may even help her fight. Come on, I'll take you both to her."

Amelia and Mildred wrapped their cloaks around themselves, following Herbert as they left the room. They walked slowly together into the cool air of the long corridor in front of them.

"Herbert … I … I'm so sorry I didn't think about the Therm—"

"Amelia, you were not the only one to forget," Herbert replied softly. "It was entirely my responsibility. You had due cause to be in shock. As a doctor, **I** should have been thinking clearly."

"Herbert … you … no one is perfect … you did more than … It … it wouldn't work anyway when Davina tried … you … She would have … died without you …" Amelia finished faintly.

"Dr Rowan-Webb …?" Mildred mumbled quietly. "I'm … I didn't mean … I'm really sorry for yelling at you the way I –"

"Mildred, I think considering the evening's eventualities I can safely say you had every right to react the way you did. And you kept her alive long enough for me to come. Because of **you**, Mildred, she still has a chance."

Amelia put her arm around Mildred's shoulders as they followed Herbert through the stainless-steel doors of the lift. She had never been to this hospital before. She enquired with Herbert about it.

"We are situated about fifty miles or so from your school, though I travel fairly extensively. It was very fortunate I was driving near the main road when –" He cleared his throat again, pressing the required buttons. "This hospital has a small number of magical staff, but most are not. Your school is pretty much the only magical establishment anywhere near the area. The programme Imogen attended was to try and improve relations between using magic and medicine combined, particularly as a great many witches and wizards do not even have basic first-aid skills, let alone more advanced ones. They can be vital, especially when united with the possibilities of magic."

Amelia was thinking just how very fortunate it was that Imogen had obviously absorbed everything she had been taught.

They stepped through the mechanical doors into a small corridor. They turned to the left then immediately right and walked a short way. Facing them was a set of heavy glass double doors with INTENSIVE CARE UNIT written in bold black letters above.

Herbert keyed in a number into an electronic box on the left-hand side wall beside an admittance buzzer; a few seconds later the doors opened automatically for them as they proceeded into the unit.

"Now, when you enter there are a lot of scary-looking machines and devices, bleeping noises and suchlike. And as I said earlier, she is at present unable to breathe by herself and is on a ventilator. Please don't be alarmed at how it all looks. Sit and talk to her; we believe even people in deep unconsciousness can still hear."

He pushed open the left-hand side of another double set of glass doors to their immediate left.

Amelia and Mildred followed, both of them able to feel their hearts beginning to pound with apprehension. They looked down into a fairly short, yet amply wide corridor. It was painted white – the luminous ceiling lights somewhat oppressive on the eyes of the exhausted trio. Three blue-cushioned, square-backed chairs were stationed in each of the gaps situated between six rooms: three sets of double doors on the right and three set of double doors on the left, positioned in a zigzag layout so they were not directly opposite one another. Each wooden door had a large, square pane of clear glass in the top. Mildred looked left at both of the doors' windows of the first room, noticing how they were partially obscured by the inner white roller blinds attached to the other side of the panes. Above the centre of each set of doors was a conical red light attached to the wall. It looked rather like what one might find on an emergency vehicle, but smaller.

Past the doors at the end of the corridor was a very large and lengthy circular white desk. Amelia could see several doctors and nurses talking quietly amongst themselves and observing various computer screens situated on the inner circle of the desk. Two nurses were making telephone calls.

They looked at the various poster signs displayed at eye level warning about hygiene and infection. Mildred noticed a bottle of what looked like clear jelly attached to the wall.

"That's alcohol gel – you rub it on your hands to kill bacteria before entering the room. They've only just introduced them," Herbert informed them.

All three squirted some of the gel into their hands and massaged it in.

"She's in here," he beckoned them towards the second set of doors on their right. He pushed the right-hand side door, holding it open as they entered.

Amelia immediately let out a mixture of a sob and a sharp gasp for air, raising both her hands to her mouth, tears forming the second she saw her.

Mildred didn't make a sound.

The moderately spacious room was fairly dim. Herbert explained that in an emergency the bright ceiling lights came on instantly, but they found the patients were much less distressed by dimmer lighting at night so as not to disturb their recuperation so much.

Hanging on the horizontal window directly opposite the entrance were vertical white blinds, with the long slatted lengths closed snugly. The walls were white and sterile-looking. Various four-wheeled stacker-trolleys, constructed from plastic and full of equipment, and pieces of machinery were standing by the lower right wall next to a sink and two bins, almost opposite the bed. By the upper right wall was an open door, leading into a bathroom. By the upper left wall were four more blue square-backed chairs stacked in the corner beside a white locker, which had a bedding and towel-laden chrome shelf situated above, fixed to the wall. The locker was identical to the one in the earlier treatment room: plain in design, with a small upper drawer and large compartment beneath, both of which could be securely locked, plus an inner shelf between them, and flat, indented metal top. At the base of the bed was standing a squat white trolley. It had a lift-top desk panel, for leaning on to write, two small drawers beneath and a metal tray beneath them, a side holder for the patient's chart, and was supported by four sturdy wheels. The temperature of the room was very warm, the type of heat to induce instant drowsiness.

Constance was lying almost completely flat in the bed, the back of which was against the lower left side of the wall. Amelia continued to walk gingerly further into the room, Mildred and Herbert following. The three stood together near the base of the bed, in front of the trolley.

Slightly left of the facing bed were a multitude of raised buttons, wires and equipment protruding from a metal panel on the wall. Further left of the panel was a small wall-mounted X-ray viewer. Directly above the bed on the wall was a white board, upon which was written her name and the consultant and surgeon her care had been placed under. At the facing right side was an extended white lamp attached to the wall and switches at the side to manually control the main lights as well as the lamp.

Generally, it was still bright enough with the night lighting for the staff to see what they were doing, but the dimming control could easily be adjusted to provide better visibility if necessary.

Constance was propped up ever so slightly on a firm wedged pillow, covered in a white casing. She was wearing a sky-blue, light-weight, short-sleeved gown, fastened down the front. The upper crease line of each sleeve was fastened down the centre with a visible thin line of Velcro. Amelia could just make out the beginnings of a fine gap in the gown towards the middle of Constance's left side. A white sheet, folded over from beneath a thin blue blanket, covered her up to her waist.

Her long hair was twisted loosely yet neatly, and had been pulled up over the pillow behind her head, and the ends held together with a black band. On her face, inserted into her right nostril, was a thin tube. It was taped lightly but firmly to her cheek, the remains of which led directly into to a cylindrical container on the wall beside Constance's right. In her mouth was a transparent tube, taped firmly in place. It led to a transparent plastic attachment at the side, which split, leading into two thicker blue concertinaed tubes. The tubes were connected to a large, independently standing wheeled box. This box was white and metallic in design, and upon it were numerous buttons, switches and dials, a white concertinaed pipe, numbered keypads and a small digital screen. Where the two tubes met on the side attachment was connected a long white lead, which also led to the machine. A little further down from the main tube in her mouth was connected a long transparent tube, covered in see-through plastic wrapping with a blue cap on the end, lying beside the main blue pipes. They could hear the pulsating whoosh of the machine as it breathed for her, situated by her left-hand side.

In the right side of her neck was a yellow inserted tube, which was covered with a see-through dressing. Further down along this tube was a triangular piece of blue plastic, from which were four separate points of entry, each a small, thin tube of transparent plastic, ending in a short cylinder of transparent plastic with a blue cap on the end. On each tube was a small blue clamp, currently loose, but capable of cutting off the supply to the line when necessary. Each cylinder had an additional piece of coloured plastic attached. One was white, the others blue, green and red. Beside her right was a standing metal pole on wheels, the top of which had a looped hook at either side. Towards the lower middle part of this stand was a white box. This box was about level with Constance's chest. On the box were three transparent pipes of plastic, with white turning valves at the top and bottom of each piece. Hanging on the stand were two drip bags, one either side, similar to the ones Herbert had given Constance earlier at the school. Both bags were filled with clear fluid. They were almost solid-looking in appearance. Surrounding each bag was a pouch-like cover of white material with a transparent front panel, through which the drips' labelling and contents could be clearly identified. Each cover had two short lines of white tubing coming from bottom. One led directly to a small gauge, which was curled upwards and attached to the lower part of the cover, and the other tube, which was slightly longer, led downwards to a white balloon, which was about the size of a large plum. Directly from the base of each bag, the main tubing of each drip led into two of the three pipes of plastic on the white box. The facing left drip led into the bottom connection of the facing left pipe of plastic. The right bag's tubing led into the bottom of the middle piece next to it. Behind the two pipes of plastic were stickers. The left one was red and the middle one blue. From the top of the two pipes were single lengths of transparent, quite stiff tubing. The left side tubing led towards Constance's right wrist and the middle tubing towards her neck.

In Constance's inner right wrist was a piece of tubing. It was looped in shape and taped in place. This was attached to a short length of tubing, along which was a plastic stopcock: a three-pronged piece of plastic with two port holes beneath, which connected to the stiffer tubing and led to the far left pipe with the red sticker behind it on the stand, inserted into the top. From the white tube in Constance's neck was an identical set-up like the one in Constance's wrist. This led into the top of the pipe in the middle, with the blue sticker behind it. Both wires had a red and blue tag wrapped around them respectively.

Beside the stand by Constance's right side was another independently standing wheeled machine. It was also primarily white in colour. It had a large front panel covered in buttons and switches, which was situated beneath a flat, wide monitor like a computer screen, with several different multicoloured readings on it. Coming from this machine were a series of wires. Two wires led to the centres of the pipes in use on the white box. Another number of wires were attached to Constance's chest.

Amelia could just make out the electrodes protruding under her gown, and she could see the bandage outline covering her wound. Poking through a gap in the gown on her lower chest was hanging a measurable, teardrop-shaped, ball of plastic, partially filled with reddish liquid, coming from tubing sticking out from beneath the bandage.

Mildred looked at Constance's right hand. Clipped on her index finger was a small white peg, the thick white lead of which also extended from the machine.

Almost behind the stand on her right was another two-looped stand. This one had a large electronic beige box in the centre. It had four digital screens, several mirroring buttons either side and a central keypad. At either side of the main panel were two boxes, vertical and rectangular in shape, equally spaced at both sides for drip tubing to run through. On the facing right metal loop was a labelled bag of red fluid. From this bag the long tubing literally fed through the facing right side of the beige box, came out beneath and was attached to the blue tube in Constance's neck.

Mildred walked further around the bed, edging a little closer towards her.

In the left side of Constance's neck was still in situ the cannula Herbert had inserted earlier. Mildred looked closer. Inserted into each of the two ports was a small length of transparent tubing, with a small white clamp attached around, ending in a plastic capped port. They were both lightly taped in a loop on her neck. At the lower left of her chest, popping out from the side of her gown, was a long, fairly thick transparent tube. It led to a round plastic container bottle, also measurable, which was hanging on the side of the bed-rail, creating a slight bubble within the clear fluid inside.

By her left were two more stands. On each stand were central beige buttoned boxes, identical to the one on her right-hand side. Hanging from the stands were four labelled drips of fluid, two on each, with the tubing already inserted and waiting to be connected. Mildred looked at the various wires from the machines all collected rather messily together behind the bed, inserted into the power outlets.

In Constance's left arm, near the area of her inner elbow crease, was inserted a singular hollow piece of tinted plastic, taped in place with a secure dressing. From it extended three short feeds of transparent tubing, ending in capped ports. Each tube had a white clamp attached.

In the back of her left hand was a green-coloured cannula, securely taped like the others and three-pronged in design, like the one in the left side of her neck, only without additional tubing.

Near the base of the bed on Constance's left was a plastic measurable bag clipped on the bed-rail, the tubing under the sheets. It was filling very slowly with yellow liquid.

Her face was now clean and devoid of blood, her arms lifeless and straight by her sides, and her colouring deathly white.

"It's okay, you can go sit with her," Herbert said encouragingly.

He took two of the chairs from the corner. The metal legs scratched against the floor slightly as he placed one either side of the bed. The coldness of the cushioned plastic covering on the chairs caused Mildred to shiver as she took her seat. She sat by Constance's left and Amelia by her right.

Herbert made his way over to the sink by the trolleys, situated along the right side wall. He washed and dried his hands using the soap and paper towel dispensers on the wall above, tossing the crumpled towelling into the foot-controlled rubbish bin beside and slightly lower in height than the sink. He pulled on a pair of white disposable gloves, taken from another box, one of three, on the wall next to the dispensers. He opened a drawer on one of the stackers and removed and unwrapped a large sealed syringe without a needle, then took a cardboard carton from a stacked pile on the top of one of the trolleys and placed it on the trolley in front of him. Taking the phial of Constance's blood from his shirt pocket, he removed the cork and sucked out the entire contents into the syringe, discarding the empty phial into a clinical waste container under the sink, which was standing beside the rubbish bin. He held the syringe over the sink, tapped it, squirted a minuscule amount out to check the liquid was flowing with no air trapped, and placed it into the cardboard carton. He then removed from one of the drawers two similar but smaller sealed syringes, filled ready with clear fluid. He opened both and placed them with the other syringe in the cardboard tray. On the top of another stacker was a box of alcohol wipes in sealed square packets. Herbert took one out. Finally, taking a sealed sheet of white sterile towelling, the carton and a pack of purple-coloured sterile gloves, he made his way over to Constance. He opened and unfolded the towelling, placed it on the bed and put the carton on top with syringes inside and the alcohol wipe packet beside it. He removed his gloves, unwrapped and put on the other pair. Opening the alcohol wipe, he delicately took Constance's left hand. He studied it for a few seconds, making sure the cannula was still intact with no visible skin irritation, then opened the facing port and wiped both the port hole and lid thoroughly with the alcohol wipe, allowing them to dry. Picking up the syringe of clear fluid, he made sure the valve on the cannula was in the correct direction, took off the syringe's cap, checked the syringe, injected the full amount and removed the syringe. He then took the syringe of Constance's blood, double-checked it and proceeded to inject it. As he plunged the contents into her bloodstream, they watched as her entire arm glowed with white light for a few brief seconds, the brightness fading and dispersing into the atmosphere. Switching to the second fluid-filled syringe, he uncapped it, checked it and steadily injected the cannula to flush it clean.

"Hopefully that will help," he said, resealing the opening. He tidied up his implements before properly disposing of the used items, and then washed his hands again. He went and stood at the side of Mildred.

"We have higher hygiene standards when not racing against time. If we can, it's always better to be safe than sorry." He smiled, noting their expressions at his somewhat meticulous routine.

Amelia and Mildred glanced at him, then looked back at all the machines and tubing going into Constance.

"Would you like me to talk you through it all?"

Amelia nodded slightly.

Herbert stood beside Constance's left.

"Okay. Firstly we have her on a ventilator as she cannot breathe unaided. This will breathe for her as long as necessary and monitors her respiratory condition. The tube in her nose is called a nasogastric tube. As you can see, it is attached to the suction container on the wall at the moment. It decompresses air and fluid from her stomach to make it easier to ventilate her. Sometimes a similar tube can be put in the same place to give patients additional nutrient feeds once they have started to recover from surgery. We will rebalance her system through drips in her veins with various solutions for the time being."

Amelia nodded, indicating she was taking the information in.

Herbert continued. "The tube in the right-hand side of her neck is called a central venous catheter, also known as a central line. It is sewn and taped in place to keep it still. The cannula in previously has been removed, as it was not suitable for what needs to be done. The individual tubes are called lumens. By having them, it means we can deliver different things into her body – often including medications which cannot be tolerated as well by smaller veins – or take venous blood – as well as constantly monitoring what's known as CVP – central venous pressure. The resulting measurements tell us the pressure of the blood returning to her heart. That is what the bag of pressurised saline is for: it keeps the line patent and the measurements also serve as a guide relating to the fluid balance of her body – which helps us decide what to give her – and tell us how well her heart is working. The tube in her wrist is called an A-line – an arterial catheter – also sewn and taped to keep it secure. This is also connected to pressurised saline. The A-line monitors her blood pressure all the time, and far more accurately than a manual cuff. Additionally, it allows us to take frequent blood samples which tell us specific information about the oxygen, carbon dioxide and a few other important markers in her blood, so we can judge how well her lungs are working. They are known as arterial blood gasses, or ABGs."

Herbert paused slightly: reducing complicated procedures into more understandable terms was never easy – especially when the patient in front of the terrified visitors was so desperately ill, surrounded by machines and covered in wires resembling spaghetti junction!

He cleared his throat. "Both of these are connected to the box on the stand, called a transducer – which converts the measurements from one energy type to another – and they are also connected to this monitor." Herbert pointed at the large, flat screen by Amelia. "It's really several machines in one. As well as the CVP and A-line, the screen also constantly monitors her heartbeat, respiration rate and skin temperature to let us know both visually and audibly if anything changes, as well as what is known as pulse oximetry – that is the peg on her right finger – which tells us her oxygen saturation level and her pulse rate. She has a chest drain in to remove remaining air from her collapsed lung, and a urine catheter as obviously she cannot attend to herself. In the left side of her neck we have left the other cannula I put in for now, as it is okay for the time being, plus the extension tubing means we don't have to move the main cannula about so much, as it will also be used for fluid at some point, certainly initially. And she has more points of access with the cannula and extensions in her left arm in case we cannot for some reason use the ones in her neck, and a simple two-port cannula in the back of her hand is fine for now – less fussy for the odd injection. She also has a wound drain under the bandage to remove excess fluid."

Amelia inhaled a deep, shaky breath, desperately trying not to break down. She appeared overwhelmed to say the least.

"I … I … um …"

"I'm sorry, Amelia." Herbert smiled gently. "I haven't exactly explained it well, have I?"

Amelia met his eyes and gave a small smile in return.

"No … no … you e-explained it well, Herbert. It's … just … a lot … to t-take."

"Ultimately, they are all there to help her, Amelia. I know it looks very scary, but it means we can keep an eye on absolutely everything happening within her body all the time. Plus the main monitor's alarm is linked to the primary computer desk and the light outside – even though the staff come in very frequently – for maximum observation. As you can see, she is having a transfusion of blood at the moment. She also had emergency blood and fluid replenishment in A and E and during theatre. We have decided to give her the crossmatched blood on its own in case of an adverse reaction, that way, we know what caused it. Due to some other traumas tonight, we had to wait for the suitably typed blood to be restocked anyway, but given the fact that the enchantment is actively within her system, we are just being a little more vigilant regarding how we go about her treatment. While it is undoubtedly wiser for her to have her magic back now rather than later, particularly as it may help her condition, from the enchantment's point of view, it is not something we have specifically dealt with before, so we are erring on the side of caution. The other drips will be run through the infusion pumps before long to keep her hydrated and continue to raise her platelet count and plasma level as well as her electrolytes – they are the special levels in her body like potassium, sodium and so on. It turns out she is the blood type AB negative, arguably one of the rarest blood groups there is – in Caucasians, particularly. I am sure she is deliberately trying to be awkward just to annoy me for telling her she was in need of a holiday."

"Can … um … c-can we … t-touch h-her?" Amelia stammered, still trying to find her voice.

Herbert nodded. He went to each side of the bed and lowered the bed-rails a little more to allow them better access.

"Mind how you go with her right hand – arterials are temperamental little devices. Is there anything else you would like me to tell you?"

Amelia shook her head. She had absorbed about as much as she could cope with for the time being.

"Herbert, I … I … t-t-thank you."

Herbert briefly closed his eyes and nodded.

"I shall come back in a while. Would you both like a cup of tea?"

Mildred shook her head.

"In a bit maybe, please," Amelia answered, "and … um … maybe a biscuit or something for Mildred, she … she hasn't eaten all day."

"Certainly." With that he left, pushing the left side door open and allowing the double-hinged door to close softly behind him.

Amelia and Mildred glanced at each other then turned their attention to Constance.

"Constance …" Amelia spoke first. The droplets she had been struggling to hold back were once again falling rapidly down her face. "I … I hope you can hear me …" She edged forwards a little and very carefully took her deputy's hand. "You … you're safe now … Agatha has been stopped … Egbert is destroying the Dagger … and … Herbert has just given you back your magic and now you just have to rest … Just rest and let your body heal …"

Amelia was staring once more at the light-pink scars which covered both Constance's upper arms and lower neck.

Mildred was sitting quietly. She had Constance's left hand in hers, stroking it tenderly. She looked at the hospital identification tag on her wrist:

_Constance R. A. K. Hardbroom – DOB 05/01/1963 – Patient ID 82224 – Intensive Care Unit_

Amelia wiped her face with her hand and took a deep breath.

"Mildred, I think you ought to be returned to the school – you are beyond exhausted, dear."

Mildred met the gaze of her headmistress. Her pale face was expressionless.

"I'm not leaving her," she said in barely a whisper.

"Mildred, there is nothing more you can do, and goodness knows you have done more than enough to help … no … **more** than help. You … all together … have prevented the entire situation from becoming one of … of dire consequences."

"What if sh—?"

"Mildred, she may be able to hear you. And she won't," Amelia said firmly. "She's come this far – she'll be back to us in no time."

"I'm still not leaving." Mildred pulled her chair closer to Constance's left side, being careful not to knock the chest drain. Clutching Constance's hand, she sniffed and placed her head on the edge of bed, indicating her decision was final.

Amelia sighed. Whatever else had been said or had happened between them, it was now very clear Mildred had developed an unbreakable bond with Constance.

As the minutes passed, Amelia continued to hold her deputy's hand, staring at her fixedly. The disbelief of Constance's actions were still thrashing around her mind. Part of her was still incredibly shaken and frightened beyond her wits, and part of her so very angry with Constance for having apparently no respect for her **own** life.

Amelia leaned back in her chair, thinking about the last fifteen hours. Despite the various noises in the atmosphere, Amelia could hear the beginnings of heavy rain pelting on the window. It was beyond late now, virtually daybreak. She looked at her dainty gold wristwatch: 4.56 a.m. She glanced at Mildred then turned her attention back to her deputy, watching her chest rhythmically rise and fall, and allowing her brimming tears to silently emerge from her tired eyes …

* * *

Herbert entered the room quietly, carrying two small polystyrene cups balanced in his right hand and a flapjack bar in his white coat pocket. He had taken a quick shower and changed his clothing while the pair had been sleeping.

Amelia stirred and espied Herbert by her shoulder.

"How long have I –?"

"Just under an hour. I thought you maybe needed a rest," he whispered.

Amelia looked at Mildred. She was asleep, still holding Constance's hand.

"Has the rain stopped?"

"I think so," Herbert replied, making his way over and checking out of the window behind the blinds.

"I think I had better get back to the school. I shall return in a few hours."

"You could ring them?" Herbert suggested, extremely worried about her flying when she was still so obviously distressed.

"No, they deserve to be told in person."

"Bring some things back with you. You may stay with me if you like, at least until we have a clearer indication of what is happening," Herbert advised softly. "And Mildred?"

"Let her sleep, besides, I don't think I could drag her away if my life depended on it."

"Best bring her some things as well, then," Herbert said decisively.

Mildred stirred slightly and shivered.

Amelia stood up, massaging her stiff neck with her hands. Herbert placed the cups and biscuit bar on the white locker a few feet from the bed. He then picked up a blue blanket from the shelf above the locker and covered Mildred with it, before raising the rail a little at the other side of the bed, being cautious of the wires.

Despite the warmth of the room, it was apparent the emotional shock of the night and lack of food was enough to merit Mildred's body remaining cold.

Herbert moved her chair as Amelia leaned over with care and kissed Constance's forehead, stifling a sob. She remained for a few moments, gently stroking her temple, noticing how her long, dark eyelashes were so contrasting against her white skin.

She glanced at her deputy and her pupil, turned and left with Herbert, telling him briefly about the previous day's events unfolding, leaving the cups of tea completely forgotten.

The nurses, having been checking Constance's observations throughout the late night and into the dawn, continued to come in and out every fifteen minutes, being as quiet as they could so as not to wake Mildred. They had earlier come to the conclusion an earthquake could not awaken Amelia, given her incessant snoring!

"Vent and chest drain okay and urine output is increasing," whispered one, writing on Constance's chart.

"Sats, A-line and CVP okay," the other added, joining her to record the information. "BP still too low but improving."

Mildred was vaguely aware of voices in the room from time to time. She was so exhausted she couldn't seem to waken up enough to investigate the source further. She continued to sleep, tightening her grip on her teacher's hand.


	13. Chapter 13

**UPDATED: 27TH**** APRIL 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 13**

* * *

"Amelia!" Imogen rushed towards her as she landed in the courtyard, just as the brief morning sunlight was disappearing behind a thick formation of cloud. "How is she?"

The tenseness of Imogen's body increased with foreboding as her headmistress made no effort to do anything more than give a forced, watery smile.

Amelia walked inside in silence with Imogen. They made their way to the staffroom. Inside, Egbert and Algernon were anxiously waiting.

"Amelia, how is she?" Egbert stood at once in her presence as she entered. Algernon turned around from filling his seventh dose of sugary tea from the urn. The saucer was chattering against the china cup as he placed it down quickly on the wooden beverage trolley before he dropped it in nervousness.

"Where is Davina?" Amelia asked wearily, preferring to tell them all at once.

"She is with Enid, Ethel and Maud. They were not asleep last time I checked," Imogen told her.

"Would you be so kind as to ask them all to come, please, Imogen."

"Amelia … she … she's not?" Imogen pressed timidly.

"Please … just bring them. She is alive."

Imogen left the room and made her way to Amelia's quarters. She opened the door. The room was fairly dark, and with the curtains drawn it seemed as though it was still night-time. She saw Davina lying in the centre of the large bed. Enid was at her right-hand side, Maud and Ethel her left. All three girls were asleep. Davina was wide awake, head tilted sideways, stroking Enid's forehead softly.

"Davina?" Imogen whispered.

"Imogen?" Davina flicked her left wrist towards the candle lantern bedside the bed and it lit instantly, lighting up the room.

Imogen crept over to the bed.

"Amelia is back, she wants you all in the staffroom."

"I think it's best we leave them here for now, let them sleep. They were all sick a few times. The shock of it all, I think," Davina replied.

She edged her way off the bed. Imogen helped her up and they made their way to the staffroom.

Amelia cleared her throat as they waited for Imogen and Davina.

"Egbert … has –?"

"It has been fully destroyed, Amelia. They cannot … they cannot hurt her any more."

Amelia wiped a tear from her face and sat down in the flowery armchair, placing her head in her hands.

Within a few seconds, Imogen and Davina had entered the room, closing the door quietly behind them. The pair remained standing along with Egbert and Algernon as Amelia lifted up her head, drew a slow, deep breath and addressed the group, barely noticing the girls had not accompanied her staff.

"Constance is very seriously ill. She is apparently in the full state of Comatosation. They operated and the enchantment allowed the safe removal of the Dagger." At this point she turned to Egbert, who nodded, acknowledging once again it had been destroyed.

"Herbert has given her back her magic … but she … cannot breathe unaided … she could still …" Amelia trailed off and cleared her throat again.

"Amelia, how exactly does this 'Comatosation' work? I have never even heard the term before," Egbert asked.

"Neither had we. Her note indicated it would put her into some sort of magical coma so that the weapon could be removed without … So that it could be removed safely. But … she stated she might not wake up for some time. Mildred has remained with her. She … refused to come back."

"How **is** Mildred?" Algernon looked towards Amelia. He was now sitting by the back wall on one of the hard table chairs, his emerald-green velvet robes wrapped around him. The glass in the oval, delicately gold-rimmed spectacles upon his nose was smudged and his usually curly brown hair and beard had lankness to its texture, showing a distinct hint of newly formed grey.

"I don't honestly know," she replied. "I am as concerned for her as I am for Constance. I … I don't know what we would have … have done without Herbert." Amelia put her head back in her hands, sighing deeply. She rubbed her eyes, spreading her palms across her face. "I shall go and pack some of Constance's things. Mildred's as well, I think. I cannot see that she is going to leave her any time soon."

"Amelia … about what happened –"

"I shall explain it all when the time is right, Imogen, but for now, I must get back to the hospital. Algernon has agreed to stay here for a while and help you both with the girls, and Egbert is going to go to Pentangle's shortly," she said, meeting his gaze. He nodded again and wrapped his violet starry cloak around his neck, being careful not to snag his wispy, neck-length, grey-white hair as he picked up his purple jewelled staff and adjusted his small, jewel-encrusted ruby hat.

"Oh, goodness – I quite forgot. Algernon, what about Merlin?" Amelia continued, remembering his young apprentice.

"Oh, he'll be fine on his own for a few days. In fact, I daresay a few weeks he would relish it. Got himself a young lass has the rascal," Algernon told them, laughing a little and trying to alleviate the fraught atmosphere.

Amelia smiled.

"I shall see that Miss Pentangle and her pupils have recovered sufficiently before I leave them, regardless of how long it takes," Egbert assured them, making his way to the door. "I shall also transport Agatha and her … her …" He struggled to find words to describe Bindweed and Coldstone that were not too inappropriate for the moment in hand, despite his burning desire to kill all three of them. "To the Magical Council. They can deal with them."

He nodded at Amelia and left. Algernon followed to help him rouse the Pentangle's girls.

Amelia leaned back in her chair, her face still red from crying. The missing pupils suddenly came to her mind.

"Davina, how are Enid, Maud and Ethel?"

"They were rather ill through the night," Davina explained. "The impact of the trauma to Constance, I think. They are sleeping now."

"And the rest of the girls?"

"They were pretty disorientated. In the end I placed a mass Sedation Spell on them. I thought it best until you returned," Davina added quietly.

"It's all right, Davina. I think under the circumstances it was probably the most appropriate action to take."

"Shall we explain about Constance to the rest of the school?" Imogen asked.

"I suggest that you tell Enid, Maud and Ethel what I have told you on their own first; they deserve to know the full extent of her injuries, but ask them not to repeat it. As regards the rest of the school … I think … I think just to explain that Phyllis Pentangle was, in fact, Agatha, and that Constance stopped her and was injured and is recuperating in hospital. I'd rather not elaborate the rest to them just yet as I assume they cannot remember much of anything?"

"It doesn't seem so, Amelia. I imagine the majority were just distressed from the effects of the spells," Imogen concluded.

"I think when the time is right it shall be explained further, but for now Mildred can do without being the centre of attention when she does come back. I presume the judges have departed?"

"Yes," Davina confirmed to Amelia. "I told them there had been an accident and that the competition had been cancelled, although Mr Hallow was a bit … um … difficult. I pulled him to one side and just said that Constance had been taken ill and you had gone with her to the hospital and would be in touch."

"Good." Amelia sighed heavily, wondering how on earth she was going to explain the night to him, not to mention the rest of the Board of Governors, Federation judges, the Witches' Guild and OfWitch.

Imogen and Davina departed to clear up the Great Hall and prepare the dining room for breakfast. Mrs Tapioca had also been placed under entrancement. They had briefly explained the situation to her very late the previous night. She was in the Great Hall already, standing high upon a ladder tidying up the mess left from the decorations.

"Oh, here – let me help," Davina offered quietly. She flicked her wrist: the decorations fell to the floor.

_Constance would have had them fall folded into a neat pile, _she thought sadly.

* * *

Amelia looked around Constance's bedroom, several more tears leaking out. She picked up the black patent leather bag she had packed randomly with her various toiletries, towels, undergarments and nightgowns, slightly perplexed as she couldn't seem to find her usual purple pyjamas. Amelia shrugged. Constance would still need things once she came round, she determined. Morgana crept out from under the bed and purred around her feet. She conjured her some kippers and a saucer of milk, removing the uneaten bowl of food and untouched water Constance had obviously left for her. Morgana meowed gratefully. Amelia smiled. Constance always fed her kippers on Sundays.

She went to Mildred's room next. Mildred's large black rucksack was leaning against her plain wooden wardrobe – right adjacent to the door from the entrance – beside her schoolbag. Amelia packed her some clothing, a change of footwear and her own few toiletries and zipped the rucksack shut, glancing at the picture of her parents and grandmother stuck above her bedstead. Tabby was curled up on Mildred's pillow. Amelia bent down and tickled his chin. She conjured him up some breakfast, too. She had a sneaking suspicion Mildred had performed the spell before as he excitedly launched himself on it.

In Amelia's own room she crept in, making little noise as she opened her magnificently carved antique mahogany wardrobe – an heirloom from Granny Cackle. She took her brown leather case and filled it with whatever she happened to grab, mutely opening the drawers to her matching chest beside the wardrobe and doing the same. She tiptoed to the bed, watching her ghostly white sleeping pupils, all with dark-rimmed eyes. They seemed even paler wrapped in her deep-red blankets. They were still in their uniforms. She aimed her hand at the fireplace, instantly enlightening the cold room with mellowed hues, heating the chill within.

From her old mahogany dressing table, Amelia picked up her silver pentacle necklace from the small half-open drawer. She felt the reassurance she needed to see her through the day as the necklace glistened in her hand, reflecting the flickering flames. In her en suite, she caught sight of her reflection in the small mirror on the shelf next to the sink, behind the door. She shuddered slightly, realising how ill she herself looked in the dim light.

Imogen and Davina went out into the courtyard to see Amelia off.

"I shall be back tonight."

"If you want to stay with her, we can manage," they said together.

"I may do. I have packed some things of my own … just … in case." She ordered her broomstick to hover and positioned herself comfortably. Making sure her cloak was still securely attached to her neck and handbag still across her body, she rose into the air, the bags floating obediently beside her.

"Give her our love," they said, watching as Amelia soared upwards into the darkening clouds.

* * *

As Amelia flew back to the hospital, she realised she had not even enquired after Davina and Imogen. She cursed. _How could I be so insensitive?_

After fifty-five minutes of flying over countless pine trees, sizable rivers and streams, and over small villages and hamlets, she noticed the hospital building in the distance. She had magically plotted the course into her broom the previous night, so she would be able to find it again without veering off in the wrong direction.

It looked like a small skyscraper from the outside, surrounded in the close vicinity by various smaller buildings, roads, pavements and signposts, which gradually became more compacted towards the vast city beyond. From directly above the shape was almost like an octagon. Four sides like a square, yet each corner cut across diagonally, so that there were eight sides altogether, four very long main walls and four much shorter lengths. Obviously a fairly new building, and not at all like Cackle's. The vaguely blue-tinted windows were reflecting the morning sunlight yet to be devoured by the coming rainstorm which had followed Amelia as she flew. Certainly it was very clean and modern inside the hospital, as well as being most appealing architecturally from the exterior. Amelia smiled as she thought how disapproving Constance would be to find herself in a bed which rose and fell with a touch of a button, not to mention that fact it vibrated.

She prepared to land, the bags still flying close beside her. Her hat was still upon her head, but she would soon hide it from view, as it was a rather blatant indication to her status.

_The roof might be a good idea, _she thought. It wasn't overly prudent to fly in the daytime in the city – some people did not react well to magic. She and Mildred had landed in the ambulance bay outside the main entrance when they previously arrived. Night had long since fallen, and it had seemed a good idea at the time. But the amount of people in the vicinity obviously waiting to go into the casualty department somewhat changed their minds. Although given the amount of evidently inebriated people, hopefully they may have thought twice about repeating whatever it was they had been doing after seeing two women in pointed hats landing on broomsticks, especially considering the looks of complete incomprehension on their faces.

Amelia and Mildred had left their brooms just inside the accident and emergency department behind a vending machine before moments later meeting Herbert. Amelia was still wondering if perhaps Mildred shouldn't have come to the hospital after all, despite her protestations.

She aimed for the helicopter landing pad, situated on the roof. The pad itself was an extensive red cross surrounded by a white circle, drawn with fluorescent paint and shimmering in the sunlight. It was positioned just off centre, towards Amelia's facing left. On the far right of the roof was an upright, fairly large protruding building in the middle of one of the long walls. It had a broad set of double doors which led into the lift shaft, all of which were constructed from metal. Around the outer edge of the roof was a sturdy steel barrier fence to which were attached spotlights to light it up at night. By all four flat corner sides of the building was an enclosed transparent glass cylinder of the same height. Each cylinder was independently sited several feet from the building, with long, thick, tightly twisted ropes of metal additionally holding them in place on the ground, designed rather like a maypole. As Amelia neared she took a closer look. Within the base of each cylinder at Amelia's facing left side was a lift, generous in size. At the other side was a zigzag staircase which ascended to the very top. From each floor of the hospital leading directly into the cylinders was a sheltered and supported walkway coming from a set of double doors. Each walkway was above the other, tiered with supporting poles at both sides as extra reinforcement, providing an escape gateway into the cylindrical towers from every corner and every level.

Adjacent to the left of the building was a multi-storey car-parking area. Each tier was directly above the previous, leading up to the covered roof. The surrounding gaps in the grey concrete were open, allowing for full ventilation. At the back of the hospital was another extensive building, singularly tiered in height, with a partly glass-covered roof and a sheltered walkway connecting it to the back of the hospital. Amelia could see what appeared to be a swimming pool inside, plus a gym at the rear. Across the road from main entrance was a neatly kept park area with benches and trees, and also a small children's playground.

Amelia gradually lowered her broom until she touched down onto the tarmac. She walked to and opened the right side of the doors leading to the lift which would take her down into the hospital. Propping her broom against a pipe on the inside wall, she attached a small chain from her cloak pocket around a couple of times, securing the broom tightly with a padlock.

She stood back and tugged the broom. It remained fastened solid. _Well, you can never be too careful._

After placing her hat safely away, she picked up the no-longer-enchanted bags which had placed themselves neatly beside her feet; they were heavier than she realised. She walked over to the shiny steel lift, surrounded by yet more white walls, reflected in the clean cream floor. Glancing at the sign above, she climbed in and began to push a multitude of buttons, not recalling what Herbert had pressed. Eventually, she gathered she had to punch the numbers into a digital keypad.

_Not exactly a typewriter, _she thought. The lift started to move, inducing the familiar strange feeling she had felt earlier. It hit her once again as the enclosure plummeted a little faster than she would have liked. Broomsticks were less jerky on the stomach, that was for certain. And less claustrophobic. Within half a minute or so, she had arrived down at the sixth floor. The ICU.

As the lift doors opened she saw Herbert. He was sitting slightly slouched on the chairs directly opposite the lift, eyes closed and head tilted back. She approached him quietly. He sensed her presence and woke up.

"Oh – I must have dosed o – o – off …" Herbert rubbed his eyes, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Any change?" Amelia asked.

"Not as yet." He cleared his throat. "Mildred hasn't moved, though. I think she must have been incredibly drained."

Amelia nodded. "Yes, I would say so."

"Leave your other bags here for now, they will be perfectly safe," Herbert assured her.

They talked as they walked together down to Constance's room. As they entered two nurses came out.

Mildred was still sleeping. As Amelia went to place Constance's bag down she stirred, then jumped.

"Shhh … it's all right," Amelia soothed softly.

Mildred appeared startled for a second, realising what she wished was a dream had actually happened.

They all looked at Constance. Her complexion was still unbelievably pale.

Mildred glanced at the round clock above the doors, plainly stating 8.15 a.m.

Herbert cleared his throat. "The nurses will be in shortly to freshen Constance up a bit, make her more comfortable. Why don't you both go to my quarters and get a little rest. There is a bathroom and spare bedroom. I live within the hospital. It is much easier than trying to rent a place nearby. I shall have some breakfast sent up to you, you must be famished, Mildred."

Mildred swallowed. _Not really._

Mildred finally let go of her teacher's hand, then followed Herbert and Amelia, turning to look back several times.


	14. Chapter 14

**UPDATED: 29****TH**** APRIL 2009**

**WARNING: GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 14**

* * *

Imogen was sitting in Amelia's flowery armchair in the staffroom. She gazed around slowly at the masses of papers, books, green cups and saucers, balls of Davina's wool and odd pieces of biscuits which were strewn about the room. She wrapped her turquoise tracksuit top tighter around her cold body. The fire was unlit and the room chilly and still. They would have to wake the girls soon. Imogen jumped as the cuckoo and grandfather clocks began their grating chiming in unison. She left her seat and turned the key in the back of the grandfather clock, stopping it instantly and making a mental note to stop winding up the cuckoo clock to at least halt one of them! She sat back down in deep concentration, her head racing with the recollections of the last twenty-four hours repeatedly flowing through her thoughts. Despite how she often felt ridiculed by Constance, be it over her attempts to encourage more exercise in the girls or trying to prove that teamwork would help them in the future; despite how Constance would point out frequently how insignificant a cross-country run was to their education; despite the challenges she faced every single day … Trying to stand for the fact she was not a witch … Trying to prove her value to the school … Always … trying … Despite everything, she never imagined in her wildest dreams she would bear witness to such catastrophic results from such an outwardly harmless turn of events. She could not force the image of Constance fighting for every breath from her mind; the torment of watching her scream out in what must have been torturous pain. And nor could she shake off the shock still rebounding within her body, repeating the sequence of her own actions to try and save Constance over and over in her mind. Her autopilot response had kicked in at the time, not even comprehending what had happened, instead, just doing what needed to be done. She and Constance had never been more than what you would call mostly polite colleagues. Certainly, they had had a fair number of clashes. But Imogen knew, despite everything, Constance had seemingly gambled with her own life to save them all. They may have their differences, but that didn't mean she didn't respect Constance. And to see her so helpless. So gravely injured. Perhaps even the last time she would see her … Before long, tears were pouring down her face as the harsh reality and impact of the situation hit her.

* * *

Davina was in Amelia's bedroom. Still asleep on the bed were Enid, Maud and Ethel. Ethel had only just dropped off back to sleep, having been violently ill again just as Davina had returned from seeing Amelia off. Davina leaned back in Amelia's bedside chair. Her frilly gown was clinging to her warming body as the heat from Amelia's fireplace was now fully enveloping the room. The chair was more comfortable than the one in Constance's room, she noted.

_Constance … _How she so desperately wanted to be in her cupboard having had yet another disagreement with the intimidating deputy. Despite their dissimilarity; despite how she often had to fight for her place as a senior member of staff … To be heard; to be understood. Despite all the problems over the years … she truly liked Constance. She admired her. Even though she found her cold; un-tactile. Constance could never be accused of wanting anything more than to make sure that all of her pupils did their very best. Because Davina knew, deep down, Constance was right. Albeit a little … well, far too stern at times. But she always gave reasoning for her actions. Regardless of anything that had happened in the past, Davina could not ever really dislike her. She often felt insulted, degraded and put out on occasion. Goodness knows she had been a little peeved at the time that Constance had risen to deputy so quickly. But she would never wish her harm. Just those few days watching Constance sleep, almost as if she was never going to wake, had made her wonder even then if there was so much more to her than met the eye. Davina began to weep tears of regret. The guilt of not being able to resolve anything between them; the remorse that, if she had tried hard enough, she could have been her friend. And, above all, the fear that it was perhaps now … too late.

* * *

Herbert led Amelia and Mildred to his apartment, ten floors above the intensive care unit and three floors below the roof. The staff's living quarters.

He opened the door, beckoned the pair in and put down their bags. Mildred noticed her broomstick leaning against the wall and hat sitting neatly on the floor beside it.

"I will be back later. I have a few things to sort." Herbert smiled and shut the door behind him, leaving Mildred and Amelia surveying his room.

More white walls, completely impersonal. In the far top right was a double bed, featuring four blue-covered pillows, a stripy blue duvet and matching central cushion, and to its right, a small white bedside table containing two drawers. On the top of the table were a black angle poise lamp, digital alarm clock and two books. At the base of the bed was a small white metal table with a single blue chair, identical to the ones elsewhere in the hospital. A large, oblong window was directly opposite the entrance, beneath which was a white radiator, fiercely permeating the room with heat. Hanging from a rail above the window were white vertical blinds, half drawn. On the left wall high up in the corner was a silver television on a bracket, and beneath that, a small white wardrobe, adjacent to a white chest of four drawers and a full bookcase, displaying everything from medical encyclopaedias to Jane Austen's _Sense and Sensibility_, plus numerous CDs, and featuring two photo frames and a small stereo system on the very top. To their immediate left was another door – the bathroom. And their immediate right, a partially open door leading into a small plain room, no window, just a similar single bed, wardrobe and bedside table. The main ceiling lights appeared to be like the rest of the hospital – beams of irritatingly bright luminosity, but a dimmer switch was also clearly visible on the wall; a suitable provider of relief from a shift beneath stark, headache-inducing lights.

"Mildred, would you like to take a shower first, dear?" Amelia asked, handing Mildred her rucksack.

"Okay."

Mildred obeyed and went into the bathroom, taking the bag Amelia had packed for her. The bathroom was as clinical as the rest of the room: all white and spotlessly clean. Fresh white towels were on a chrome wall rack opposite the door. Various tubes of shampoo, shaving apparatus, hand wash, mouth wash and aftershave lotions littered the small shelf next to the sink at her immediate right. The toilet was against the far right side wall, and directly opposite was a shower cubicle. She showered and changed, folding her cloak and previous day's clothing into her bag and forcing her boots into the large side pocket as she switched her footwear. She discarded her two threadbare hair bobbles into Herbert's small white bin beneath the sink; they had virtually snapped as she pulled them from her messy plaits before her shower. Standing at the sink to brush her teeth, she looked in the mirrored cabinet above the shelf the facing her.

_I'm nearly as pale as HB, _she thought. Darkly shadowed under her eyes, her wet hair seemed to emphasise her sallow complexion. She repacked her toiletries and came out of the bathroom.

"Miss, would you mind?" Mildred lifted a strand of wet hair.

"Oh, of course, dear …" Amelia flicked her wrist, drying Mildred's hair instantly.

"Thank you, Miss." Mildred sat down, took her brush from her bag and began to comb and braid her hair back into two long plaits before unwrapping two new black hair bobbles from the several around the end of her brush to keep them in place.

"H-how … um, do … you want to talk, Mildred?"

"I … I think I will go for a walk. You stay, Miss, get some rest. I have managed to sleep some."

Mildred stood and left the room as Amelia watched her, filled with anxiety.

* * *

Mildred walked around the hospital, not really knowing or caring where she was going, and paying little attention to the signs. She saw doctors and nurses commencing their morning shifts and the odd patient being pushed around in a wheelchair or on a trolley. Porters and cleaners were briskly bustling about with their daily duties. The hospital had a smell of disinfectant, which was rather unpleasant in a way; she was used to a mustier odour. Eventually, she found herself back at the ICU. She walked along to Constance's room and sat outside on a chair, noticing for the first time her name written on a rectangle piece of plastic slid into a holder on the right-hand side door. She could hear muffled voices inside.

A few minutes later a doctor came out, followed by three nurses.

"Hello there, are you a relative?"

"I … er … no, I'm her pupil."

The doctor looked a bit mystified. "I see."

"Can I go back in now? Please?"

The doctor smiled. "Of course."

Just as Mildred was about to enter Herbert walked up to her.

"Whoooaaa – slow down! Have you had any breakfast yet, Mildred?"

She looked at her feet.

"Come on, sweetheart. If you don't eat you'll be in no state to talk to her," he said kindly. He escorted her back to his quarters.

"Mildred! Where have you been?" Amelia almost ran over as they entered the room.

"Just to clear my head a little," Mildred said, glancing up at Herbert.

He smiled and semi-winked, slipping his white coat off and hanging it on the back of his door.

"Has some food arrived, Amelia?" He then noticed a smallish stainless-steel trolley parked alongside the table at the foot of his bed. "Ah, I must warn you, hospital food is an acquired taste."

Mildred almost smiled. _Compared to Cackle's?!_

All three sat down to eat. Mildred took the chair and perched by the window, looking over to the nearby park. She slowly chewed a piece of toast, her mind elsewhere. Herbert was sitting on one side of his bed, Amelia the other.

"Herbert, what happens now?" Amelia asked.

Herbert swallowed. "Basically, it is a waiting game. Constance has made it through this far – the first twenty-four to thirty-six hours are always the most critical. Hopefully in the next day or so she may come off the vent naturally. Once that happens, she may start to come round. I have never, nor have my colleagues, treated a case remotely like this before. A medical coma is one thing; a magical coma is somewhat different. Hers is a mixture of considerable trauma to her body, combined with the enchantment. We don't really know how it will affect her or for how long. Regardless, her recovery will take some time, Amelia, although a lot of that time depends on Constance herself. She isn't exactly renowned for taking it easy, is she?" He raised one eyebrow and smiled.

Amelia laughed a little. "Not exactly, no."

"For the first few days certainly, provided her condition remains stable, the nurses will keep checking her very frequently. She is due to have a CT scan this morning – it is probably being performed now, actually. This will give us a better picture than X-rays alone of the workings of her body and will make sure we are not missing anything. Her chart stated earlier that her urine output was improving – which means her kidneys are working. Her chest drain is clearing, and they took another X-ray earlier to confirm her lung is still functioning as it should be. She will have daily X-rays until the drain is cleared and she is breathing on her own. This is to verify that the vent, chest drain and nasogastric tubing remains where it is suppose to and to check her lungs are okay. It may be a few days before we remove the chest drain fully, just to make sure. Also, you will see the staff suctioning her airway tube at regular times as she cannot swallow, so it needs to be kept clear. And they will give her eye drops to prevent any damage occurring, as her eyes could become irritated if they stay closed for a long time."

Amelia cleared her throat and nodded, indicating once again that she was absorbing the information Herbert was giving her. Herbert continued.

"After that, the staff will give her gentle physiotherapy so that her muscles do not start to waste away, and it also helps to prevent pneumonia. And they will turn her for a while every day onto her sides once her condition is a little more stable and the wound less fragile, as it will hopefully stop bedsores occurring if she remains unconscious for too long. And of course they will make sure she is clean and comfortable. Her blood work came back strangely inconclusive regarding her apparent reaction to the medication, and also regarding what I gave her to counteract it. The chances are it may have even been the enchantment taking effect at that precise moment, the mixture of the two types of treatment – magical and non-magical – combined, or it may have just been due to the trauma in general – we still don't know. We have her on non-opioid painkillers just in case it was a reaction. Although she is unconscious, we won't know for a while how much pain she will be feeling as her wound is likely to take longer to heal than a normal stab wound would because of the weapon used. She is also on antibiotics to prevent and control any infection, and various other medications to help her. The nasogastric tube will remain in probably until she can breathe for herself, as it helps to make it easier for the machine to ventilate her. We only suction through it when necessary so that we do not damage her stomach lining. Its insertion time is also dependent on how much gastric acid she is producing. Often, as I said before, a similar feeding tube can be inserted for additional longer-term nutrition. At this still-critical stage, we sometimes keep patients just on intravenous fluids and nutrients so that their digestive system is not being taxed, as their body has enough to deal with, and it therefore may not be functioning very well. Some patients, once awake, will attempt to pull the tubes out themselves, as I'm sure you can imagine they are not very comfortable. It varies from patient to patient, but we can drip-feed her through her bloodstream for now. A dietician is overseeing her treatment and will decide which routes to take as time goes on. Obviously, the sooner she eating properly again, the better, although to be perfectly frank she far too thin to start with to continue too long without adequate nutrition. And although we cannot be certain at this stage, we don't believe there is any brain damage –"

Amelia looked up fearfully.

"It's okay, Amelia, she is very much under the effects of the Comatosation. Her eyes react to light stimuli, although her gag reflex is too weak at the moment, but … there is hope. I cannot as a doctor say for certain … but … there is hope. In truth, Amelia, anyone else … I don't think they would have survived it. She must be extraordinarily strong."

"She is," Mildred said quietly, unnoticed by the pair.

"Have you any questions, Amelia?"

"I have," Mildred interrupted. She turned to face him. "Can I stay with her until she wakes up?"

Amelia was about to object when Herbert stepped in.

"Mildred, could I make you leave if I wanted to?" Herbert smiled gently at her.

"No," Mildred replied flatly.

"I think after everything, Amelia, a few days would not hurt. She can stay here, you both may."

"Thank you, Herbert, but I also have to deal with the school. I shall come every day, though. Mildred, are you quite sure you –?"

"Miss Cackle … I … I cannot explain why I have … why I want to stay … but I am going to."

* * *

"Miss?" Enid sat up. She patted Davina's shoulder. Davina stirred, and then jumped slightly.

"Oh –" Davina cleared her throat. "Enid, how are you feeling, dear?"

"Sick."

"I think I should maybe mix up a remedy …"

"Oh no, Miss, it will pass! I'm sure it will," Enid replied quickly.

"Ummpphh …" Maud opened her eyes, blinking the sleep away before rubbing them several times. She reached over Ethel to the bedside table for her glasses. Ethel was still asleep.

"Have you heard anything?" Enid asked.

Ethel suddenly screamed out, causing all three to jump. Davina sprang from her chair and around the bed, gripping Ethel as she struggled to emerge from her nightmare.

"Ethel, shhh … you're all right … **Ethel **… ETHEL, LOOK AT ME!"

Ethel opened her eyes fully, breathing fast in panic and sweating profusely.

"I … I …" she trailed off, tears streaming her face.

"Come on, snuggle up here with me, you three," Davina said soothingly. She climbed onto the middle of the bed, the girls placing themselves beside her. She rewrapped them all within the blankets and began to tell them Amelia's news.

* * *

"And so, girls, for the next week or so, certainly, you shall be effectively on holiday. Miss Bat and I will arrange activities to keep you out of mischief until we have a clearer idea of what is to be happening."

The entire school was in the Great Hall. Imogen, Davina and Algernon were standing on the stage. Maud, Enid and Ethel had been ordered back to bed after being force-fed some tea and toast. Davina had finally awoken a very groggy Drusilla, who unfortunately had been somewhat forgotten amongst the chaos. Davina had accidentally given her a slight overdose of potion. On the plus side her sneezing had stopped.

"Miss, was Miss Hardbroom really hurt?"

"She … um … she is in the best place to recover, Ruby," Imogen replied hesitantly.

Jadu had a final glance around before asking what nobody else seemed to know. "Miss, where is Mildred?"

Imogen looked at Davina. Davina nodded.

"Erm … she is with Miss Hardbroom."

"Is she **okay**?" Ruby butted in, immediately worried.

"She … is … um … Mildred aided Miss Hardbroom with Agatha and is going to keep her company for a while."

There was a general murmur of noise spreading amongst the girls.

Imogen cleared her throat. "There are some art materials left from last year's Art Week. Why don't you distribute them amongst yourselves and see if we can't produce some pictures to cheer Miss Hardbroom up!"

Ruby and Jadu exchanged glances. _Mildred keeping __**HB **__company?!_

* * *

Maud, Enid and Ethel were in Mildred's bedroom, knowing they probably wouldn't be found in there, especially as they had locked the door.

"I wonder how Millie is?" Maud asked the pair.

"She was … very … upset, wasn't she …?" Enid muttered.

"Is that so surprising, though?" Maud looked at Enid. "When you think of –"

Ethel cleared her throat. "I … I never thought … she was hurt so … so badly …"

"HB is tough. She'll pull through this," Maud said, trying to reassure them as well as herself.

"Do you think we should tell the others?"

"No," Maud replied without hesitation. "Miss Cackle asked us not to, Enid, not even to Ruby, Jadu and Drusilla. At least not for now. We just have to pretend we were knocked out like they were."

"We should get back to our own rooms, really. Bat and Drill will be checking, no doubt," Enid concluded.

As they silently left the room, making certain they were not seen, they stopped, looking at each other, and for a brief moment held themselves close together. Things were never going to be the same.

* * *

Mildred was sitting next to Constance, listening to the pouring rain pounding against the window. She had been back in her room for a little while. She had shortly after entering watched quietly fascinated as the nurses came in to check on the various machines. They had changed a few drips, given Constance an injection, and also swabbed a dampened pink cube of sterile sponge gently into her mouth to stop it becoming too dry, as well as suctioning her airway tube to maintain the opposite effect in her throat, plus numerous other tasks as they monitored her condition. A cleaner, too, had just left the room. Mildred had obligingly lifted her feet as she mopped under the bed and wiped the surfaces of the various trolleys.

Amelia arrived about twenty minutes after Mildred, having dosed off in Herbert's apartment earlier.

"Mildred, would you like a magazine buying or something? There is a newsagent within the hospital."

"I erm … okay. Thank you, Miss Cackle."

Amelia smiled. "I'll be back shortly."

Mildred looked over towards Constance and gently took her left hand.


	15. Chapter 15

**UPDATED: 3****RD**** MAY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 15**

* * *

Later on Sunday afternoon, Amelia made her way back to the school. After flying for a while, she began thinking about Mildred, and how she might react if …

She shook her head. No, it was **not** going to happen.

For whatever reason she was not aware of, Mildred was not going to leave Constance come hell or high water and it seemed pointless trying to persuade her otherwise.

She had thought Mildred was doing rather well up until a few days ago. Her parents' deaths late last year had been such an agonizing time for her, and rightly so. It was such a cruel twist of fate that something as unexpected as an apparent carbon monoxide leak could consequently destroy an entire family. Mildred had instantly blamed herself for not picking up on the problem and fixing it magically. It wasn't her fault; the tragedy of it was that it was invisible until too late. Besides, she wasn't even at home when it happened. They were found by her paternal grandmother. She herself had only just come back from a holiday. Amelia could not even begin to imagine how she must have felt finding their bodies. And to add acid to the already devastating situation, her own house had been ransacked, seemingly a few days before she found her son and daughter-in-law.

Amelia recalled how she and Constance had to tell Mildred. What was even more horrific were the repercussions, which resulted in another tragedy so near to the Yuletide celebrations.

Constance had gone to fetch Mildred that bitter early October morning, after the family solicitor had turned up at the castle out of the blue. Mildred's grandmother could not possibly travel all the way to tell her. Mildred knew something was very wrong the second Constance put her arm around her shoulders as she sat her down in Amelia's office. Mildred didn't want to go to the funeral, but Davina convinced her she would later regret it if she did not attend. Having no family other than her paternal grandmother and just a handful of close family friends, Amelia, Davina and Constance went with her. She barely cried at the time. In fact, she barely spoke at all.

Her grandmother's health had begun to deteriorate within days of finding her family dead. She collapsed on the afternoon of the funeral and was in hospital for almost two months. Mildred visited her several times with Amelia. She wanted to stay at her grandmother's house until she was well enough to come out, but her grandmother strictly forbade it. She was eventually discharged but died only four days later. Amelia felt sure it was from the shock. A horrendous triple blow to Mildred.

Mildred had been left in a state of emotional distress. The solicitor had stepped in and sorted out the financial affairs, as all Mildred could think about was what was to become of her. She had entered the school on partial scholarship, using her grandmother's savings to support her education as her parents were unable to afford her remaining fees. Her grandmother had stated that no other members of her family were magically trained, but she had been most insistent Mildred attended Cackle's. Amelia had consented for Mildred to apply, and was suitably impressed with her work ethic to give her a chance.

Amelia shifted slightly on her broom, gazing lazily, and without really focusing, upon a wedge of mute swans flying almost beside her: six of them gliding along in a V-shaped formation. She could hear the whooshing of their wings as they flew gracefully, turning in their direction and heading for a nearby lake. She blinked a few times, looking straight ahead once more. Cackle's comforting turrets were now within her vision, poking through the low-lying clouds in the distance. Her mind began to drift back again as her broom sped onwards, knowing it was nearly home.

In the end it was agreed for Mildred to remain at Cackle's after Constance had advised, quite compellingly, for her to reside there indefinitely under Amelia's guardianship. Her inheritance was to be put into a trust fund until she was eighteen, with a yearly allowance to buy the required clothing and any other items needed for school or personal use. Amelia had thought it a wise decision.

When the knowledge of Mildred's grandmother came through, Constance seemed to have taken it quite badly herself. Amelia remembered how her deputy was as white as she currently was now when she went to fetch Mildred for the second time to deliver such shattering news, after the solicitor had once again come on a grave errand. He had apparently found her in her chair after being called upon to check she was all right, and was ironically due within a day to go and discuss the probate procedure with her. It was presumed she had suffered a heart attack, and she had died at least two days previously. The alarm had been raised after a friend could not get in touch with her and contacted him. The solicitor had gained entry with a spare key before the police arrived, only to find it was too late. He had expressed his own profound sorrow profusely to Mildred for not going sooner. Her grandmother had apparently refused any help whatsoever upon her release from the hospital, leaving her few friends helpless.

Amelia remembered how Constance had received a small package just a few days before the news of Mildred's grandmother's death. Constance herself had no known family, and Amelia did not dare enquire where it was from.

The staff were all concerned for many months that Mildred wasn't coping as she didn't express her feelings, seemingly not even to Maud and Enid. And having to leave the home she grew up in must have been a terrible wrench. She had kept her most treasured possessions, although she re-homed her tarantula at a local tropical zoo, sensing that a building full of cats was perhaps not the best place for it – and certainly not the frozen mice it ate. Amelia had offered to store any bigger items within the school. Mildred had asked if she wouldn't mind keeping her photo albums safely stored along with her various books, CDs and so forth. She decided the rest of the things may as well be sold. It was as if she thought hanging on to them would only make it harder. Even in her room, she only kept that one photo. Amelia had come to the conclusion Mildred didn't think it fair to the other girls to have her room more decorative than theirs were.

As far she was aware, Maud and Enid had been very good at supporting her, and after a few months she seemed to be picking up in spirits and dealing with it very well. Maud and Enid had taken it in turns for her to stay with them over the holiday period as it appeared there was no other family. Amelia had assumed that her not talking about them was her way of putting the past behind her, or else bottling it all up.

Ethel Hallow drastically reduced her teasing and arguably bullying of Mildred initially, as well. And although she had been warned by Constance about her behaviour, it seemed at the time it was unwarranted as Ethel backed off the minute the tragedy was announced. It was obvious things were, up until the last few days, at least, still relatively tetchy between them, but, given the circumstances, it was evident they had both, indeed all, joined forces and pushed aside any remaining animosity.

Even Constance had been extra careful around Mildred for the last several months or so. That said, the PMT incident had shaken things up a bit. Mildred was definitely more outspoken now than she used to be. Not surprising, considering what she had been through. Still, Constance did feel very guilty afterwards.

Amelia thought that over the last couple of months Mildred was improving and growing stronger. But judging by the way she had reacted to Constance, it didn't appear so any more.

Amelia landed in the school courtyard as the clouded sky was threatening another rainstorm. She had managed to avoid the shower that had descended again upon the city as she left, after a brief spell of dryness. Her broomstick took itself to the broom shed as she dismounted.

She glanced up to see Imogen and Davina looking down at her from behind the leaded diamonds of one of the high castle windows.

Imogen and Davina made their way to greet Amelia.

Imogen led the way outside. "How is –?"

"I will tell you shortly, first, how are **you both**? I am so sorry for not asking before," Amelia apologised solemnly.

"I am okay, I think, Amelia. Just … just trying to get my head around it all."

Davina nodded in agreement with Imogen.

"And you?" they asked Amelia.

She smiled weakly. "I … I have had better weeks." They turned, took each other's arms and made their way into the castle.

"Have Enid, Maud and Ethel been all right?" Amelia enquired.

"Ethel woke up screaming. A nightmare, I think. I cannot blame her," Davina told Amelia.

"And the rest of the girls?" Amelia continued.

"We have had them drawing and painting most of the day. Fenella and Griselda took the first-years out for some extra flying lessons to improve their skills for when Constance … For when she gets back," Davina added.

Imogen cleared her throat. "The rest of them are making various art and spell projects. Davina took a group out to pick some fresh flowers for you to take to her."

"They were a bit peaky looking, but Fenella used a potion to perk them up a bit." Davina smiled a little.

Amelia was touched. She knew flowers would not be allowed in her room, but once she was no longer in the ICU, she was sure they would send them in abundance.

"Do they suspect anything more?"

"To be truthful, Amelia, I think it's blatantly obvious there was more to what we told them. And Jadu and Ruby asked about Mildred. We … we just said she helped Constance with Agatha and is going to keep her company for a few days."

"It's fine, Imogen. I don't think we could exactly hide the fact she is not here for very long. I don't imagine I am going to get her to come back any time soon; she's hardly left her side."

"Is there any improvement?" Imogen asked.

Amelia continued to walk with her colleagues, updating them on what Herbert had told her would be happening over the next few days, weeks or even longer.

"I think perhaps it may be best after all to tell the girls the truth. Not fully everything, just that she was … that she was more seriously injured than we initially told them and that she is very poorly but will hopefully start to improve soon. They are bound to keep asking questions about the competition and I think we ought to at least attempt to tell them a part of what happened."

"And what did happen, Amelia?" Davina said quietly, stopping before the staffroom and looking her directly in the eyes.

Amelia sighed. She knew this was coming.

"Let's go to my bedchamber. I think I need to lie down to tell you this."

* * *

Mildred leaned back in her chair. She was outside Constance's room as the nurses were attending to her again. She gazed around the corridor as the other doctors, nurses, porters and visitors made their way around the department. Miss Cackle had sworn not to tell Miss Bat and Miss Drill everything that she told her. She knew Miss Hardbroom would prefer it not repeated. Not that she had told her everything.

As she turned her head she noticed Herbert making his way towards her.

"Do you ever stop working?"

"Do you ever eat?" he replied.

She smiled. _Fair point._

"Here," he said, handing her a sandwich in a triangular plastic container and a carton of orange juice.

_Salmon and cucumber. Tabby would wolf this down, _she thought.

"Come on, get it down you – or I will put you in a bed next to her."

Mildred chewed hesitantly, crumbs dropping onto her black polo-neck jumper and blue leggings. They were more comfortable than her uniform. At least Miss Cackle had seen fit to bring suitable clothing. And her comfy trainers.

"Mildred?"

"Yes, Dr Rowan-Webb?"

"Please call me Herbert."

"Yes, Herbert?"

"Mildred, I … um … Uncle Algie told me about your family. I am so very sorry. I didn't want to bring it up before … I just … thought with everything … If you needed someone to talk to, I would be happy to listen. I … I know what it is like to lose your parents, though I was not as young as you. It helps to talk sometimes."

Mildred surveyed him and swallowed.

"I um … I miss them."

"Oh, of course you do. How could you not? I assume Enid, Maud and Ethel are your best friends?"

"Maud and Enid, yes. Ethel … She always used to bully me … but … but after –" She cleared her throat. "After Mum and Dad … and … after yesterday … at the competition … and everything … She was really different. Like a good friend."

"I think, Mildred, you four will forever share that moment in your lives. It will have changed you and likely for the good, although you may not think that now. What you all did … Especially what **you** did, Mildred. You should never forget how **very proud **Miss Cackle is and your family would be. And I think Constance, too, will never forget what you have done for her," Herbert said compassionately.

Mildred wiped a tear from her right eye and handed back half a sandwich.

"Here, your turn." She smiled. "You don't exactly eat much, either!" she pointed out, eyeing up his equally skinny frame.

* * *

Imogen was sitting with her back against Amelia's wardrobe, crouched on the floor. Davina was still rubbing her eyes with the corner of her dress. Neither could comprehend what Amelia had just told them.

_Constance taking such a risk, possibly a sacrifice. And Mildred __–__ what must the poor girl have been going through?_

"Do … do either of you want to … t-to come and … s-see her?" Amelia asked, still stammering slightly after their conversation.

"I … I'm not sure I could face it, Amelia," Imogen uttered quietly. She had seen enough in her own experience of hospital waiting rooms to last her a lifetime.

Davina shook her head. "I … um … I don't want to remember her like this if …" she trailed off, clearing her throat. She went to stand from her chair, her legs wobbling a little. "I … er … think I will go and check that the girls are all behaving themselves. Mrs Tapioca said they would have finished eating by six o'clock and I need to go and organise the laundry. And, er, Algernon should be back shortly. He went to Pentangle's this afternoon to see how Egbert was doing."

Davina walked from the room, quickening her pace as tears started to fall rapidly once again.

Imogen met eyes with her headmistress.

"Imogen, I … I have decided that the girls must be told the truth. You can inform them tomorrow. Tell them that Constance is in a coma due to a special enchantment to try and help her recover. They need really to be prepared in case …" She cleared her throat. "We will just say that Agatha is being dealt with and that no further danger remains to them or the school … and that all we can do is wait. They are more than likely to ask how and why. I think the best answer is a version of the truth, leaving Maud, Enid and Ethel completely out of it. All they have to know is that Agatha used a dangerous weapon against Constance and that she managed to defeat her with Mildred's help but was badly injured in the process."

Imogen nodded. "I think that may be best. Maud, Enid and Ethel can certainly do without the attention." Imogen straightened up to leave. "Did Mildred say anything else?"

"No, nothing else, Imogen."

Imogen looked at her, knowing there was likely more but not wanting to push it. She smiled, nodded slightly and left the room.

Imogen's mind was once more filled with the emotional recollections of the previous night. And guilt. Guilt for ever thinking that Constance didn't care about them when it was so obvious now she did. And was willing to pay the ultimate price to save them.

Amelia leaned back into her soft red pillows. Yes, Mildred had said more, but she was not going to break a trust and elaborate further. She knew they were curious as to what else had occurred. She simply told them that Constance had enlisted Mildred's help with the enchantments required in order to stop Agatha as there was apparently no alternative. Imogen had been very taken aback after Amelia said how concerned Constance had been for her safety especially.

They had asked how Constance knew about Mildred's near-fatal poisoning, but Amelia had shrugged the question, claiming ignorance. She was fully aware they wanted to know the complete story but knew they would not pressure her any further.

Amelia swung her legs off the bed, stood up and walked over to the window. Outside the sky was so dark one could mistake it for the middle of winter. A few splashes of rain were beginning to spatter on the panes of glass. She undid the recently retied red twisted tassels around the long curtains and closed them. She turned to the chair, picked up her cloak from the back and pulled it around her, bending down for her handbag. Feeling a little woozy, she looked across at the half-remaining sandwich on her bedside table which Mrs Tapioca had brought in earlier for her. She had managed about three mouthfuls before deciding she really could not face it, especially given the subsequent conversation she began a few minutes later with her anxious colleagues.

_I will get something to eat properly once I get back to the hospital, _she told herself firmly, putting on her hat. She flicked her wrist and sent the plate and contents down to the kitchen.

As she left her room, she paused, thinking of Constance, and how she would be mortified if she thought Davina and Imogen knew everything she now did. Perhaps even disturbed to know **she **knew.

She pondered why Mildred had been the one chosen. _Was it just her ability with the book?_ She couldn't shake off the feeling there was more to the reasoning than Mildred had deemed fit to tell her. _And the scars on Constance __… H__ow in God__'__s name did she get them?_

Amelia shuddered as she hit the sharp evening air. She mentally cast a couple of spells to keep herself and broomstick warm and dry in case the rain became heavier during her journey back.

_Enid was right, it really is freezing for May! _She laughed a little inside as she remembered Enid early the previous week pointing out for perhaps the tenth time in one day that an icy broomstick was not exactly the best thing to have under one's ar—

As she carefully mounted her broom, she sensed Davina and Imogen watching from the staffroom. They would tell the girls tomorrow. For now, she wanted to be back with Constance and Mildred.


	16. Chapter 16

**UPDATED: 15****TH**** MAY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 16**

* * *

Mildred was dozing lightly. Constance's left hand was nestled closely in hers.

Herbert entered the room soundlessly with Amelia. Amelia automatically pulled up two chairs and slipped off her cloak, hanging it over the back of one chair. She took off her bag and placed it diagonally across the back on top.

"Has she been here all the time?" Amelia whispered, walking a little closer to her deputy, while smoothing down her dark, patterned grey cardigan. She instinctively began to stroke Constance's forehead as a means of saying hello.

_Just … letting you know I'm here, Constance, _she thought.

Truthfully, Amelia didn't really know what to say to her. At least, there was little she could say without knowing it would undoubtedly result in her losing her fragile composure. She concluded that Constance would prefer her not to be sitting blubbering if she could indeed hear her, and so silence was the best policy, for now.

Herbert cleared his throat as Amelia inhaled a steadying breath.

"She … um … has barely left the room. I managed to get her to eat a little food, but she's certainly not going to be able to continue like this unless she builds up some strength."

Amelia sat down at the side of Constance and watched her pupil sleep. _How on earth is she going to cope if Constance dies? _

Herbert tucked Mildred's blanket further around her, then pulled his chair beside Amelia. They sat and watched the pair, talking quietly once again about the events of the previous day.

* * *

Mildred awoke very early the following morning with a rather sore, stiff neck. She yawned and looked across to Amelia. She was snoring lightly, with her head bowed to her chest. Mildred rose from her seat and stretched her arms and back, releasing a low-pitched grunt as her muscles loosened. She walked to the window and peered through the blinds into the still fairly dark, heavily clouded morning.

_Global warming is certainly having a lot to answer for, considering the current month, _she thought. She glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time just approaching 4.56 a.m. Mildred looked at her teacher. Constance definitely had a better degree of colour about her but was still a ghastly shade of white. The drips had been changed again through the night, Mildred noticed. Various bags were hanging from the stands, but not all the infusions were actively connected to her and flowing. Mildred had watched the previous morning as the staff had systematically arranged the numerous bags, extensions, tubing and attachments, linking them, at times, to both sides of Constance's neck and also her inner arm. She wondered how the nurses managed not to get it all mixed up. Granted, practically everything was labelled in one way or another, yet still, the nurses triple-checked to make certain of no mistakes. The set-up reminded her of an occurrence back when Tabby was a kitten. Her grandmother had given him a ball of wool to play with when Mildred was home in the holidays, resulting in masses of tangled webs of yellow yarn strewn throughout her bedroom!

Mildred went into the bathroom and pulled out Constance's bag from under the sink, opening the stiff zipper deftly after it briefly snagged against the fabric. She noticed the nightgowns first.

_**White **__… How ironic! And strange, _she thought. They had only ever seen her in purple pyjamas.

Mildred took one out. It was extremely beautiful. The silky yet floaty material was very long – the gown would certainly reach Constance's ankles. It had very short, angled lacy sleeves, a flowery silk and lacy, almost square in shape, slightly curved patterned top, and was completed with pearly buttons down the front to the waist and a silk belt around the middle. _Pure vanity, one might say!_ Slowly, a smile emerged on Mildred's face as it dawned on her what HB had done. Replacing it neatly, making sure she didn't catch it with her fingernails, she saw folded beneath them was Constance's ever faithful black silk dressing gown. A few small, dainty, neatly hand-labelled glass bottles, sealed with prettily carved square stoppers, were in the bag: Youthful Skin Cream, Rose-hip Body Balm, Natural Apple Shampoo, Natural Apple and Strawberry Conditioner, Body Hair Removal Potion – Apply Externally …

_And yet she tells __**us**__ we shouldn't be using razors at our age! _Mildred thought, smirking.

Eventually, after searching amongst the various bits, bobs, blue towels and flannels, she found what she was looking for. In her hand was a square, delicately gold-plated horsehair brush. It was ornately patterned with several garnet-encrusted pentagrams, reaching all the way down the long handle, and in the centre of the brush was a small square, surrounded by raised beads of gold. Engraved in the centre of this square were the letters 'CAS', curled and intertwined with each other. The metal was slightly scuffed, with a small dent in the top corner. Mildred stood and made her way over to the bed. She removed the black band from around the ends of Constance's hair, placing it on her wrist for safekeeping, then took a length near to her left temple and began groom it very gently towards the back of the pillow, being very careful not to catch the vent tubes with her arm or pull, even though Constance could probably not feel it.

The machines made the noise before Constance did. Suddenly, shrill and rapidly bleeping alarms broke into the atmosphere as Constance began to shake violently. Amelia jumped awake instantly as her pupil started to shriek in terror. Mildred's cries heightened as a small trickle of blood began to emerge from Constance's nose. Within seconds the bright lights above their heads flickered on, the door bursting open as two doctors and three nurses flew into the room. Amelia grabbed Mildred and had to forcibly drag her from the scene as they gathered around Constance's convulsing body.

Amelia sat on the chairs outside the room with Mildred, holding Mildred closely to her. Although trying to reassure Mildred, the embrace was proving mutually comforting: Amelia was also in great need of the security one gets from the contact of someone's arms. The sensation of being held tightly was helping to prevent her own emotions running into overdrive.

The pair could hear voices inside Constance's room, mostly inaudible – annoyingly, the heavy doors were excellent at muting speech. But the tones were without panic, it seemed.

After what felt like a lifetime, one of the doctors emerged. He stood before them.

They dare not look up to his face. He knelt down, met their eyes and smiled.

"She's breathing on her own."

Amelia became immediately woozy, her heart palpitating in her chest as she mentally repeated the words. For a few seconds she blinked fiercely as though she was about to pass out and gripped the chair's left arm for support.

"Are you **all right**, my dear?" the doctor asked, noticing the change of colour in Amelia's complexion.

Amelia swallowed and nodded, taking a deep breath as Mildred sat up straight and released her taut grip from around Amelia's waist.

He continued. "We think the spasms were her body's way of telling us to take out the ventilator; it does not appear to have been an epileptic seizure or anything like that, but we will remain vigilant with regard to that, nevertheless. I am afraid the human body does not react well to having a tube breathing for it when it can do it itself." He smiled and stood up again. "She is still unconscious, but I suspect the enchantment may be beginning to wear off. We have made sure she's stable and she's now having oxygen to make sure her saturation level remains satisfactory. We will also do another chest X-ray before long to make certain her lungs are all right now the vent is out, as she still has need of the chest drain. You can go back now. Sit and talk to her; she may be able to hear you."

Mildred and Amelia walked into the once again dim room as the remaining doctor and nurses emerged. The other doctor followed them in.

"As you can see, we have taken out the nasogastric tube as a precaution. She had a little nosebleed which may have occurred due to the convulsions dislodging the tube. Some people have quite weak nasal blood vessels that do not require much irritation to produce bleeding. My daughter suffers a nosebleed every time she cries heavily – I simply had to insist she did not watch _Breakfast at Tiffany's _more than three times in a row." He smiled kindly, hoping to ease the weight of the situation.

Amelia smiled in return. She herself had, surprisingly perhaps, given her position, seen that very film when she was a girl. And sobbed buckets.

"Fortunately, her other lines are intact. But as tubes can kink internally, and the fact she has little gastric activity at present anyway, we have removed it for now which seems to have stopped the bleeding. It's just to be on the safe side as it may have moved."

Constance was lying in the same position, only instead of the ventilator pipe taped in her mouth she was now wearing a transparent mask, to which was attached an inflated white bag, linked through transparent tubing to a glass measurable valve with a green on/off turning handle beneath it, situated on the wall behind the bed. Her mouth was very slightly open and pink lips noticeably plumper, no longer partially obscured by the ventilation tubing. A soft respiration was now emitting from her body, instead of the coarse pulsating of the machine; the room was so much quieter; with the absence of the vent, the remaining sounds didn't seem quite as intrusive to the surrounding air now.

Mildred stood beside Constance, fighting to stop tears leaking down her face. Amelia mumbled thanks to the doctor as he smiled and left the room, then placed herself in the opposite chair and put her head in her hands.

Mildred knew Amelia was crying with relief.

Mildred bent down up and picked up the brush which had fallen to the floor. She continued where she left off, brushing the lower strands of hair which were not trapped by the elastic on the mask. A droplet flowed down her face as she looked in detail at the scars marking Constance's arms …

* * *

"Amelia …" Herbert was standing next to her right. She opened her eyes to glowing brightness within the room. The sunlight was bursting through the blinds with vibrancy after burning away the thick clouds of the early morning. Amelia turned and looked at the clock: 7.55 a.m.

"Where's Mildred?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and looking at the vacant chair.

"I ordered her to go have a shower and lie down. I told her she was to have at least three hours' rest before coming back. The staff will be in to attend to Constance shortly. The swollen tissue seems to be starting to subside, which is a good sign, and Constance has maintained her saturation level nicely with the help of the oxygen. She should hopefully start to come round soon. Her breathing on her own is a big step, Amelia. Her surgeon will also come by later to check her progress."

"I … I should really go and tell my staff the …"

"Amelia, when did **you** last eat anything?"

"I er … yesterday … I think."

"Come on – 'no' is not an option," Herbert insisted, smiling.

They left Constance in the care of the ICU team as Amelia and Herbert walked back to his apartment. Mildred was lying on Herbert's double bed. She was curled up on her side, sleeping soundly.

Being careful not to disturb her, Herbert rang from the wall-mounted telephone situated behind his door down to the hospital kitchens and asked for some breakfast to be sent up. Amelia fleetingly wondered if they had any cheesecake.

"We have two floors of living quarters, this one and the one above. We have kitchen facilities on both, but many of the staff, including me, ring down to the main hospital kitchens for food as generally there is always too much anyway, so at least less gets wasted."

Amelia smiled. "Could I … er … take a shower, please?"

"Oh, goodness – you have no need to ask. My home, little as it is, is yours." Herbert smiled in return. "I put your bags in the spare bedroom for you and made-up the bed in case you wanted a decent sleep, or if you both stay the night you may have my double bed, by all means."

"You are too kind, Herbert," Amelia said gratefully.

After Amelia had freshened up herself, she re-emerged from the bathroom to find Mildred wide awake, chewing a piece of toast and chatting with Herbert.

_Good. At least she__'__s talking to someone, _Amelia thought.

As she sat down to eat, Herbert began telling Amelia of how the hospital came about.

"It is a relatively new building, only about three years old, and a pretty impressive size at eighteen stories and over two hundred and sixty feet high. A young lady benefactor, or to be more specific, her cousin, worked within the architectural designing business. APW Innovative Creations Limited it was called, I think. Together, with more members of his company, they came up with a scheme to design and build a hospital which was effectively as safe and well-organised as one could get – and we were the chosen test subjects! I don't suppose many people think of the prospect, or the possible outcome, if a hospital had a severe fire. Well, that is precisely what happened to the old building. And tragically, because of the design, there were a great many fatalities. By using space upwards – his speciality – it took up less ground room, but actually allowed for a larger ratio of people. The independent towers are mechanically controlled from within the towers themselves. You know the old saying about if trapped in a burning building to never use the lifts? Well, if, God forbid, there was a fire and a full evacuation necessary, then every corner of the building on every floor could be escaped from, either in the lifts with a bed or via the staircases in the towers as opposed to the risk of taking bedridden patients in the internal lift system, which, granted, can be manually overridden – bypassing the electrical system – but it is not a decision that can be taken lightly, especially as some patients simply cannot be carried by the rescue-sling stretchers. The clever thing is, if the main building collapsed, the towers are strong enough to remain fully intact, and the supported walkways leading into them would detach from the hospital, leaving the towers and walkways completely upright. Even the ventilation system is really quite amazing. If you had billowing smoke inside, the vents would be able to suck out the smoke while bringing in air from the outside to allow for more time. Obviously, there are still the usual sprinkler systems, fire doors and suchlike in place. As you have probably gathered the cost was millions of pounds, and yet the benefactor even set up an additional fund to maintain the hospital's structural work, and was granted government funding to entrust it to the National Health Service, upon which she had relied for most of her life due to her own progressive illness. We are the first of many planned for this design in the country as it has proved so efficient thus far. The feat was once of gargantuan proportions, but it was, undeniably, magnificently accomplished. Both of them have been given a knighthood and damehood. I believe the young lady threw protocol out of the window and hugged the Queen – much to the embarrassment of her cousin – according to the tabloids," Herbert finished, chuckling.

They sat and chatted between themselves for another hour or so, during which Mildred had another power-nap.

Amelia stood up from her chair and stretched as Mildred was stirring.

"Hello again, dear." Amelia smiled as Mildred opened her eyes. "Feel a bit better for that?"

"I think so, Miss Cack—" Mildred broke off as she sat up, stifling a yawn and placing her hand over her mouth.

"Well then, it is now almost eleven o'clock, so I shall go back and inform Davina, Imogen and Algernon of the latest developments. There is some money here, Mildred – if you wanted to maybe get another magazine or something."

"Thank you, Miss."

"And you **will **make sure you eat through the day, won't you, Mildred?" Amelia said, staring her down.

Mildred nodded.

Herbert had assured Amelia he would make certain Mildred was all right for as long as she remained. Amelia knew she could never possibly convey her immeasurable gratitude to him for everything he had done for them.

"Oh, Miss – how are Maud, Enid and Ethel?" Mildred asked, immediately feeling guilty and realising she hadn't, up until now, even thought about them.

Amelia smiled. "Worried about you."

Mildred looked at her. "Please … would you tell them … tell them thank you. For everything."

"I will. I'll see you tonight."

Amelia left. Mildred stood from the bed. She knew what she was going to do.

* * *

Constance was lying on her back when Mildred returned. Herbert said they had given her a short time on both sides while they checked her skin was still smooth and not becoming irritated from her lack of mobility.

Mildred sat down next to Constance's left as she had got into the habit of doing, took her left hand and picked up and opened her still unread _Witchcraft Weekly _magazine. She began to read aloud.

Throughout the day, Mildred talked to her about her family, Ethel, school, Ethel, potions class, Ethel, the content of the magazine, Ethel, Tabby's broomstick phobia and Ethel. And how she never meant to cause half of the havoc that seemed to follow her around everywhere, amongst other topics. She talked until her voice was dry and croaky. She brushed her hair for her, and one of the nurses let Mildred gently wipe Constance's face with a soft flannel as they came to see to her needs. Mildred was exhausted just watching the staff maintaining their still very frequent observations and various duties, knowing they were attending to other patients, too. Yet always, they smiled and chatted to her – and to Constance. Constance never stirred, but Mildred felt sure she could hear them.

* * *

Amelia finished her sentence as Davina and Imogen both grabbed hold of her and pulled her into an embrace. Algernon was wiping his eyes with a handkerchief.

"She's not out of the woods yet, but it's a start. It's a start." Amelia smiled at her colleagues, her face wet with the tears of relief flowing within the small group. "Shall we go tell the girls?"

"Let's," they chorused.


	17. Chapter 17

**UPDATED: 24****TH**** MAY 2009**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 17 **

* * *

It was nearly two full days later, in the early afternoon, that Mildred was sitting, as was now her almost continual habit, beside Constance. Herbert had popped in just after lunchtime and brought her a Cornish pasty, banana, apple and a couple of cartons of juice.

He had fetched a more comfortable chair in for her on Monday after she had stated obstinately she was not going to leave Constance at night. Despite it not exactly being permitted protocol, unless the patient was extremely ill, Herbert gained permission, and thoughtfully included pillows and another two blankets, although given the temperature of the room they were somewhat unwarranted.

Mildred had, over the last couple of days, quickly become used to the systematic routines within the section of the ICU where Constance was situated, and Herbert had explained to her and Amelia how it all worked.

The unit was kept running by a vast multitude of staff around three interconnected sections, each with six beds. One for cardiothoracic – where Constance had been placed – which dealt with cases involving the heart and chest. Another for neurological patients, involving the brain and the nervous system. And the third was the general section for everything else, but obviously, as Herbert pointed out, if they needed a bed they filled it, regardless of which. The ICU nursing staff within each section were additionally specialised in said fields, to give the ultimate benefit of their expertise to the patients.

Within each of the three sections was a main nurses' station, a doctors' conference room, extensive staffroom, staff's showering area and stopover lounge, plus various pieces of equipment used for analyses, large wall-mounted X-ray viewers and adequate storage facilities.

At the head of the entire ICU department was the clinical director, who made the fundamental decisions regarding how the unit was run, as well as managing how it was staffed, the budget, plus many other factors within the department, but he was not always within the unit.

On the unit each day was a specialist ICU consultant, who worked a few days in a row, switched places with the alternating day consultant and then back again. Each patient would also be under another consultant or surgeon specialised in a specific field, depending on their condition, who would work with the ICU doctors regarding their patient's treatment. If the unit was filled to capacity, then they may employ another consultant or consultants to help.

Added to that, per day, were four registrars and six senior house officers, often including a couple of trainees, all skilled with the full basic standard of medical knowledge, thereafter coupled with various specialities and varying degrees of experience amongst them. Also, twenty-four ICU nurses per shift: three teams of eight for each six-roomed section, all with tiered grades of proficiency. Plus two radiographers, two dieticians, two physiotherapists, two occupational therapists, a pharmacist, two pastoral care counsellors, a microbiologist, who studied the effects of bacteria and how to eradicate infections, machine maintenance men, porters, ward assistants, two ward clerks, and finally, a dedicated cleaning team.

The dress code was also very strict. Herbert said that partly due to cleanliness and partly convenience – the ease of quickly getting changed if necessary – it was decided for virtually all the staff to wear the same. All the nursing staff wore simple theatre-style scrubs and regulation plain footwear. The nurses for each section were in colour-coded scrubs. Blue team in blue, red team in red and green team in green. The consultant was the only one in the classic white coat, though Herbert often had his on, too. The other doctors and remaining members of staff were smartly yet plainly presented, either in scrubs, simple white uniforms or else short-sleeved shirts and trousers. And each and every person had a name tag which identified them, their position and status.

The cleaning team would be around at all times to make sure the rooms, bathrooms and all other areas remained sterile. They often started their early morning shifts with the rooms, gradually working their way throughout the unit. The nurses began their shifts at seven in the morning and, after being updated by the previous team during the handover period, they commenced their duties, starting with washing the patients.

After that, the radiographers would make their way around the unit taking the necessary X-rays with the portable machine. Then, the physiotherapists would begin their work, along with the dieticians starting theirs, all evaluating and treating each patient accordingly. Between ten and ten thirty in the morning, the main doctors' ward round began, where the day ICU consultant and their colleagues would asses each and every patient, having discussed the cases with the departed night staff earlier in the doctors' handover. In the afternoon, there would be a nurses' and cleaners' shift change, more physiotherapy for those who required it, as well as any tests performed that were not otherwise deemed emergencies. Then another shorter ward round, assessing any results and changes since the morning.

The machine maintenance workmen were often around, ensuring the ICU machines and equipment was working properly at all times.

Finally, at night, there would be a consultant on-call in case they were needed, either whoever was alternating with their daytime colleague or else another consultant if extra cover was required. And after the evening shift change, the unit would then comprise of three new registrars and three high-level SHOs, as well as fresh night nursing staff and night-time cleaners – the majority of everyone else finished at five o'clock. But of course, everything could vary from time to time, depending on the situations.

Constance was still under frequent observations, during which the nurses would check on both her and the various machines and devices. From the early hours of Sunday through to Monday morning, the nurses had been in every fifteen minutes. By now, it was half-hourly checks. Her oxygen mask was changed on Monday afternoon to a slightly different type: a simple mask without the additional white bag and a thicker tube. Herbert had explained to Mildred and Amelia they were merely reducing the concentration of the oxygen as her condition improved. And by Tuesday afternoon, Constance was switched to a thin nasal tube which was placed just beneath her nostrils. The transparent tubing was hooked behind her ears and led down beneath her chin to a dual clip, taking the lead to the oxygen facility on the wall. Also, her central line, multiple cannulas and extension leads were kept extremely clean and flushed at various times during use, as well as the tubing changed every now and then to keep everything patent and sterile.

Mildred now had her own routine. Upon waking fairly early, she would head for Herbert's to shower and eat breakfast, during which the nurses would clean Constance gently, changing the sheets and her dressings, as well as attending to her needs as often as was required and, if necessary, giving another clean-up towards the evening. When it wasn't convenient to be in Constance's room, during the rounds or else when the nurses and other staff were attending to her, Mildred would either walk around the hospital or else sit in the visitors' lounge, situated in the centre corridor of all three sections, directly up from the main ICU entrance. The unit was only accessible by permission or a code to unlock the main doors from the outside. She had slipped through as someone else was emerging a couple of times on the first day, but the staff knew her by now, and Amelia, and both were admitted whenever they pressed the buzzer, alerting the staff to their presence, viewed on the security camera. Everywhere in the hospital was signposted, so Mildred never got lost. She was still amazed at the colossal size of the building – one could keep very fit by simply using all the staircases instead of the lifts. Sometimes, though, she would just sit outside, straining to hear what was being said. She didn't dare use an Amplification Spell, but the thought had **definitely **crossed her mind …

Amelia had remained throughout the night until Tuesday, but still nipped every day for a few hours back to the school.

Constance was no longer having her central venous pressure measured. Herbert told them because her fluid balance was now under control and her heart working efficiently, there was no need for the continual reading.

Various doctors popped in and out now and again; they were always very pleasant. Mildred had been introduced by Herbert to a couple of the regular senior day nurses. They would come in on either morning or afternoon shifts, depending on their pattern. They were in the blue team. Brenda was one. She was African, tall and thin, with frizzy red hair scraped into a bun, ironically. She had a jolly, infectious laugh and would chatter away to Constance as they bed-bathed her and changed her gowns. The other was Charlotte, whose hair was always in a net as she had a chin-length, sleek black bob. She had been a cardiothoracic intensive care nurse for over thirty years, small in height but stronger than her petite body looked. They would talk Mildred through what they had done to make sure Constance was as comfortable as possible once Mildred had come back into the room.

Mildred watched them and the other staff most of the time when they came in during the day doing their various checks, treatments and adjustments, wearing white plastic aprons and gloves for when dealing with Constance directly. Mildred tried not to ask too many questions, but her curiosity was hard to suppress. She found out that the little sterile damp sponges were not the only things used, but also, twice a day, Constance's mouth was treated with a special mouthwash, applied with a similar sponge, halfway between the usual pink ones and a toothbrush. They finished each gentle yet thorough cleaning with a moisturising agent. Her lips were kept soft and supple, too. Mildred, at one stage, had noticed Brenda feeling Constance's right hand and wrist during the usual observations, where the A-line was placed. Brenda told her it was to check her hand was warm and pulse still nice and strong to ensure everything was working as it should be.

The dietician managing Constance's nutritional needs had assessed her again on Monday morning, and decided that feeding through her central line was still the best option for now, so as not to overtax her body's digestive system, as well as continuing the other necessary drips to maintain her stabilised condition.

And earlier that day, Mildred had been very glad to see the chest drain had finally been removed a few hours previously; she didn't think it looked very comfortable. Also that morning, the cannula in the left-hand side of her neck had been taken out and the punctured area covered with a dressing. Additionally, the cannula and extensions in her inner left arm had been replaced, the new ones moved further down, almost on the top of her forearm. And the cannula in the back of her left hand had been switched to a fresh one in the back of her other hand, thus leaving the previously used areas suitably covered and allowed to heal. Herbert had explained that the more simple types of lines had to be re-sited about every three days – even though they were kept as clean and un-irritated possible – so that they didn't become infected or sore. Mildred, having watched the nurses remove and insert new ones, somewhat hoped her teacher was still very much unconscious at that particular moment in time.

The physiotherapy had been introduced just that morning. It was to be twice a day, mid-morning and mid-afternoon. It was only performed for a very short while as Constance was still very weak. Mildred was allowed to remain. She had immediately spotted the long white stockings on Constance's legs, leading up beyond her knees and under her gown. The therapist would support her limbs, manipulating and massaging them very softly. She had noticed Mildred watching intently and explained that the stockings were to help prevent blood clots as Constance was so immobile on her own. Mildred had stifled a smirk as she imagined **exactly **what HB would have to say about them.

Herbert was always on duty, it seemed, although it was not specifically his department. He had taken it upon himself to converse with his colleagues over Constance's care. He was almost like a mixture of a friendly family GP – someone you could trust absolutely – and a general hospital doctor. Having grown up in the nearest village to Cackle's, he told her he felt rather a bond with the area, particularly when he realised Imogen worked at the same school Mildred attended, especially considering Mildred effectively saved his uncle's life, hence giving Imogen his number if they ever needed help. He hadn't realised that Imogen had not twigged his was Algernon's nephew. He thought it quite amusing, especially after Mildred informed him she already had a boyfriend and had presumably thought he was flirting. He pointed out she was lovely but not his type.

He said being as how he was half magically trained he worked all over the hospital to help with certain obscure cases. Even though he could have easily progressed up the ladder to consultancy, he decided he preferred less responsibility, leaving him free to work with a range of illnesses and patients, and quite often from a magical point of view. Perhaps on a deeper level it was fate that Imogen met him. Not to mention the fact he was always to-ing and fro-wing to visit his previous patients at their homes, even if not living nearby. He was certainly dedicated beyond the usual call of duty.

Mildred had mentioned how lucky it was he had had his things with him. He told her he kept his car boot packed ready for a real emergency should he ever come across a car accident or suchlike to help before further aid came.

What he didn't tell her was that Saturday was possibly the worst day he had ever had in his medical career to date. In the morning he had called at a recently discharged patient's house to see how she was doing, only to find she was in need of hospitalisation, which served to firstly deplete some of his stocks while awaiting an ambulance, as she quickly deteriorated. Then, less than a couple of hours prior to Davina calling, one such incident he hoped to never actually come upon had occurred and taken up the bulk of his supplies – literally. He had been driving home on a notoriously bad stretch of road and watched horrified as the car in front swerved to miss a deer and collided with a tree, not very far from the castle. Initially, the male driver had been in great danger of possible further injury if moved. Herbert had taken his large main equipment bag into the passenger seat with him to treat the patient, plus half the contents of his doctor's bag along with his container case full of medication ampoules. Upon smelling leaking petrol, he had had little choice but to drag the victim to safety before help could arrive to cut him free. Seconds later the vehicle exploded – taking practically all of Herbert's items with it.

Davina rang him not long after the victim was airlifted to hospital by the only remaining air ambulance, as the other two employed by the hospital were both at a mass motorway collision sixty miles in the opposite direction. His first action was to immediately call the air ambulance crew to meet him at the castle as soon as possible, followed by his second action which involved him rapidly tossing all his remaining equipment from his leather case into his hiking rucksack he kept in the car. And fortunately, having picked up that very morning some new supplies he had jointly ordered via his friend's surgery in the village, plus several bottles of basic medication and general paraphernalia he had remaining in the car, he had accumulated, he hoped, enough to get him through the next few hours. But after driving faster than was strictly advisable to the castle, upon arriving, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Davina's gabbled conversation hadn't exactly been a coherent one: mixed in with traffic noise and copious sobbing he had barely heard more than the words 'Constance' and 'stabbed'. The shock of seeing Constance so near to death shook him more than he could ever have anticipated. And although his head was ready to explode from the sheer stress of the day so far, he had at least remembered to gain Constance's verbal consent to operate and anything else required to save her life just before he placed the second cannula in her neck. Her eventual response was in the positive, after which she informed him she was fine before she lost consciousness again. Despite himself, he could not resist the urge to laugh at her sense of humour even in such circumstances, especially when she repeated it later, in spite of the pain she must have been in, which was another bone of contention for him. As a doctor, to see his patient crying out cut through him like a knife. But he knew that logic would have to override his conscience as long as possible; to let the enchantment take effect, without risking her life further by mixing one type of treatment with another, when he was ultimately on his own without additional medical help. There was little else he could have asked the others to do, and unable to stand by helpless any longer, he took the risk … But he would be forever thankful that his actions, although not strictly by the book and with very limited resources, had seemingly paid off. He also decided he would now be tripling up on his usual and previously thought adequate supplies after this experience. Not to mention several heat packs. He also made a mental note to let his friend know that their new-style equipment also worked rather well!

Mildred secretly concluded Herbert and HB would get on well: both obsessive workaholics!

Mildred stood and pottered over to the window, peering through the half-open blinds. She turned and glanced at the clock above the doors: 1.42 p.m. The time seemed to go so slowly. The sun, or rather the lack of it, was now positioned behind a deep-grey formation of cloud. She looked closely at her hands, reminding herself to put some hand cream on them. Alcohol gel and frequent washing was drying her skin out very quickly. She wondered how the nurses managed to keep theirs from irritation, given they must wash them hundreds of times a day!

_Miss Cackle will be back soon, I suppose, _she thought. _She stopped at Cackle's last night, __**after**__ it took me twenty minutes to convince her to go, that is, _Mildred sighed, rolling her eyes.

Mildred walked back over to the bed, sat down and picked up the paper in her right hand, taking Constance's hand in her left. She continued to read aloud the _Spellcast Journal _newspaper Herbert brought her:

"_And so it seems that although Mr I. Stevens has been cleared of all charges, the fact still remains that his incomprehensible and downright arrogant behaviour directly led to an overwhelming surge of parents engulfing his studios, demanding to know why their daughters were a mixture of frogs, toads and newts. Despite his protestations that his next show _–_ scheduled for a fortnight later _–_ was to feature the now rectified reversal spells, his producers saw fit to axe his program immediately, leaving him somewhat in at the deep end of the pond._"

Mildred put down the paper and heaved another sigh. "What a wank—"

Constance twitched.

Mildred looked again. Had she just imagined it? Nothing. She leaned back in her chair, her teacher's hand still in hers. She continued to read.

Constance twitched again. This time Mildred felt it.

"Miss …?"

Constance fluttered her eyelids ever so slightly and shut them again.

Mildred ran out of the room – bang into Herbert and Amelia.

"SHE'S AWAKE! SHE'S AWAKE!"

Herbert rushed ahead, beckoning two nurses stationed at the circular desk at the top of the short corridor.

Mildred and Amelia stepped into Constance's room. Herbert was looking in her eyes with his small pocket torch.

"She seems to have dropped back off."

He walked over to them, lowering his voice a little.

"Don't look so worried. This is quite normal. I'm afraid it's not like television where you inevitably get a damsel in distress Sleeping Beauty-type waking up feeling fabulous and then carrying on as if nothing has happened. Her body has had an enormous quantity of trauma to deal with in a very short period of time. That coupled with the enchantment means she could take a few more days to become fully conscious and is more than likely to continue to sleep an awful lot thereafter. And it may possibly be a further amount of time for her to speak and move. I imagine it is like waking up from being asleep for a hundred years. She will probably be disorientated for a while, but it seems that she may have pulled through the worst of it. I cannot make any guarantees but I am hopeful. Keep talking to her. I think she may have heard you, Mildred," Herbert finished, smiling at Mildred's wide eyes staring up at him.

Mildred had a feeling he was referring to her begging her form mistress to wake up the previous evening. _He must have been outside the room, _she thought.

Amelia lifted a chair from the corner stack and placed it by the bed. She sat down beside her deputy and delicately took her right hand. Mildred approached Constance's left as Herbert walked out.

"Listen to me carefully, Constance Roberta Anastasia Kate Hardbroom. If you ever petrify us like this again, I shall inform Fenella and Griselda they have my personal permission to rearrange your potion lab!" Amelia said caringly. She could have sworn Constance's hand twitched in hers.

Mildred scraped her chair up further towards the bed and took her other hand. "Just keep coming back to me," she whispered.

Amelia noted the phrase but said nothing, smiling at the nurses as they entered the room after speaking with Herbert in the corridor.

* * *

Amelia left Constance in the competent hands of Herbert, his colleagues and Mildred late that evening as she flew back to the school faster than was deemed safe on a broomstick. That said, she **did **used to be a competing speed-flier in her youth. Well, before head teaching, cheesecake and cream teas got in the way.

Imogen and Davina's reactions to the news woke up the entire school. Algernon had been practicing his shape-changing in the Great Hall when he heard the shouts of relief and ecstasy coming from the entrance. Naturally, once Enid, Maud and Ethel emerged wondering what the shouting was all about, the whole school followed! Mrs Tapioca made a gigantic cauldron full of hot chocolate and marshmallows as they all gathered in the Great Hall dressed in their nightgowns, dressing gowns and slippers, supping their drinks, dipping biscuits and chatting amongst themselves.

"Girls, girls, may I have your attention, please," Amelia called out loudly as she stood on the stage. "Now, as you are aware, yes, our dear Constance has begun to wake up, but there is still a long road ahead for her. We must not get too excited just yet until we know a little more."

"But, Miss," Ruby chirped, "it's HB. Nothing will **ever** keep her down for long!"

The rest of the girls murmured in agreement.

Amelia smiled, suppressing a giggle. "I strongly suggest you do not call her that to her face once she is fully conscious, Ruby."

They all howled with laughter.

* * *

Herbert perused the chart in front of him:

_11.30 p.m. Obs. _

_Temp _–_ 37°C normal. RR 15/60 BP 135/85 Urinary output adequate. Hydration adequate. Saturation stable. CL/A-line/cannulae not inflamed. Wound drain _–_ still small production of fluid _–_ reassess contents. _

He glanced at Mildred. She was curled up in her chair. Herbert would have put a camp bed in had he had his way, considering the poor child had barely left her side. Still, he sighed, it was not directly his department. That was up to the clinical director, Professor R. B. Simkins, a downright abrupt and thoroughly detached bureaucrat if ever he'd seen one. He had something of a God complex, too. That said, the regular ICU consultant Dr Hudson McNeale was a very good friend of Herbert's. He had pulled a few strings. Tall, fairly thin, with dark, glossy brown hair and kind blue eyes. You could ask him about anything. He had seen the distress in Mildred. Herbert had briefly explained to him how the circumstances came about, although Hudson subsequently developed a distinct look of complete bemusement. He had agreed, nevertheless, that Mildred and Amelia could stay with her whenever and for however long they wanted. And being as how he also lived within the hospital and did considerably more than his fair share of work as he barely ever left the ICU – even when off duty – his boss, frankly, couldn't argue!

Herbert put the chart back in the holder on the trolley standing at the end of Constance's bed and crept from the room.

* * *

It was 5.13 a.m., the early hours of Thursday morning. Mildred stirred in her chair and opened her eyes. She thought Cackle's beds were as uncomfortable as you could get for sleeping. She was wrong. She took her teacher's hand that had fallen from her reach and glanced at Constance. Her eyes were opening.

"Oh, my God …"

Constance blinked very, very slowly and tried to focus on Mildred. She opened her recently dampened mouth ever so slightly, trying to talk. Despite only managing a barely audible sound, she succeeded in squeezing Mildred's hand with a very small but definite grasp before her eyes closed again.

"Welcome back," Mildred said softly, tears cascading down her face.

* * *

Enid tossed over onto her left side. Then to her right. She then flung her covers off in temper and sat up, huffing loudly and leaning her head against the wall. It was no good – she couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she was once again in the Great Hall. She stretched and retracted her fingers, still able to feel the phantom cramps running through her arms; the tingling sensations from her hands being clamped so rigidly around the towels upon her form mistress had not yet fully left her memory. She shuddered as she remembered washing Constance's blood from them, and how the resulting cleansing process provoked her to be violently ill seconds later as she had watched the diluted redness flow down Amelia's sink. She had felt Constance's every breath, wondering for a split second each time if it would be her last. It wasn't the first time she had seen a person so ill. But this was HB. This was the woman who for all intents and purposes was invincible. Their formidable teacher. Powerful teacher. Someone who no one would dare challenge. And now … now … would she ever come back?

Shaking her head to try and clear her mind, Enid left the confines of the still-warm enclosure and stood up, launching a perturbed Teaser, her mischievous black cat, onto the floor in the process. She was not convinced all was well. She had seen the calm before the storm before … and she simply couldn't cast the ominous thoughts from her head.

Enid, Maud and Ethel had left their fellow classmates congregating in the Great Hall the minute Amelia had finished informing them of the news of Constance's waking while still in the entrance hallway, surrounded by the awaiting bodies of her pupils. None of them were able to bring themselves to mingle with the others.

Enid walked to her glassless window and opened the shutters. Dawn was breaking. Time to get up before long anyway, although Miss Drill had announced they could all sleep in an extra hour and get up at eight o'clock instead of seven. She took a hair bobble and tied up her brown hair, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. She pulled on her two-tone, grey-striped dressing gown over her grey nightgown and put on her new fluffy grey rabbit slippers. She knew HB didn't exactly approve of such footwear, but she had uncharacteristically let it pass. Enid had reasoned they kept her warm enough to concentrate on her homework.

Constance had, in fact, been so amused by Enid's argument she had agreed and vanished before cracking into laughter.

Enid opened her door into the deserted corridor and made her way to Maud's room a few feet away, oblivious to the ice-cold wooden flooring as her slippers warmed her snug feet. She knocked lightly on Maud's door.

"Who's that?"

"It's me."

"Come in, Enid."

Enid entered the room and was fairly astonished to find Maud and Ethel cuddled in bed together.

"She had another nightmare," Maud whispered.

Ethel put her head down, obviously embarrassed by the admission.

Enid perched on the end of the bed. Teaser had followed her into Maud's room. He sprang up onto the windowsill joining Maud's cat, aptly named Midnight – fitting for a witch's cat, and Ethel's Nightstar. Tabby was curled up right in the middle of the minute gap between Maud and Ethel, snoring extremely loudly for a cat!

"How do you think Millie is?" Enid asked her quietly with a worried tone.

"Miss Cackle told us she would likely be staying with HB until she properly came round. I … I don't think I've ever seen her so distressed. Not even after …" Maud trailed off.

"I know what you mean. I mean, when she told us what we had to do, I thought she was only half serious. That Agatha would just be defeated like last time and that would be that. I never expected all this," Enid mused.

Maud nodded in agreement, pondering herself how her best friend was coping. She, too, had been thinking back to that night, repeating the words she, Mildred, Enid and Ethel had spoken to their teacher: telling her to hold on; telling her not to leave them; telling her they needed her back teaching before Miss Bat started them on permanent gardening duties and Miss Drill organised another assault course! Telling her anything they could think of. To let her know they were there with her. To keep her breathing. To keep her alive.

Ethel looked up. "I … I know I've never … I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. For everything," she admitted in croaked whisper, blinking back tears. She bit her tongue to stop herself bursting into the sobs fiercely attempting to break free from her body.

Maud and Enid took her in their arms. The three huddled together against the cold, within minutes falling asleep. All three remaining cats launched onto the bed and curled up at their feet, purring contentedly.

Enid and Maud would never have believed it possible for Ethel to change so much.

* * *

Amelia smiled as she swiftly approached the roof of the hospital. She had taken a call from Herbert at 7.48 a.m. exactly while in her office with Imogen catching up on paperwork, busily organising various necessary matters before getting ready to depart. She had answered her black rotary telephone within seconds, her heart pounding with dread for the possible reasoning behind it. Instead, she gasped in relief when he announced Constance had opened her eyes fully very early that morning and seemingly recognised Mildred and squeezed her hand. He advised her to come fairly soon and to perhaps bring some music or favourite books to read to her as she began to regain a fuller level of consciousness. And also to bring a few more clothes for Mildred, who had stated quite firmly she would remain for a few more days, at least. "She did ask me to ask for your permission, Amelia!" he had added quickly.

Amelia wasn't going to refuse, not after everything that had happened. She informed him that the only music Constance listened to was classical on the radio and that was very rarely, usually when she had confiscated one of the girls' abundantly loud battery-powered stereos. He said he would root through his own album collection and see what he could find.

Amelia stepped out of the lift into the short corridor a few minutes after landing, catching sight of Mildred's messy plaits swinging out behind her.

"Mildred!"

"Oh, hello, Miss Cackle."

Mildred was smiling.

_Thank heavens for that! _Amelia thought.

"Has she said anything?"

"I think she tried to earlier. I've just come back from my shower. Herbert's been shopping – he forced a bagel and cream cheese down my neck. Apparently he had to ask the Chief Wizard to transport his car back here yesterday after RW accidentally sent it to the wrong place twice!"

"I'm very pleased to hear it, Mildred. And you really shouldn't call him that!" Amelia replied cheerily.

Algernon had kindly offered to help Herbert out so that he didn't have to get three buses to fetch his car from Cackle's. Herbert decided not to point out to his uncle the paint damage caused by the incident with what he hoped was a bridge and nothing else.

"He went on ahead. I thought Miss Hardbroom was a workaholic – he's **much **worse!" Mildred laughed.

* * *

Constance tried to open her eyes, managing only millimetres. She attempted to turn her head towards the left. She achieved an inch before stopping. She struggled to swallow. Her mouth felt horribly dry, despite the regular cleaning and moistening by the nurses. She lay thinking about the past week. Her mind couldn't seem to concentrate on anything. She tried to focus on what had happened after she was attacked. As she closed her eyes fully, the vague flashes of memory began sparking a noticeable jolt in her heartbeat as the terror she had felt came flooding back to her. The voices in the room around her faded away as she started to drift …


	18. Chapter 18

**UPDATED: 3RD JUNE 2009**

**WARNING: GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 18**

* * *

"More tea, dear?" Davina crossed the room to the PE teacher with a cosy-enveloped teapot in her right hand. Imogen was standing with her back against the unlit fireplace. Her eyes appeared glazed and unfocused.

"Oh, you haven't finished your first one," Davina commented, peering into the green cup in Imogen's hands. "Imogen? **Imogen**?" She clicked her fingers in front of her colleague's face.

"What? Oh, tea … yes …" Imogen looked down at the cold liquid forming a milky ring around the inner edge of the cup.

"Imogen, were you up again last night, too? Did you get any sleep?"

"A little." Imogen smiled, walking past Davina and placing her cup on the table beside her uneaten bowl of raisin-packed squares of wheat, now saturated and swollen with skimmed milk. She picked up the red cardboard carton standing beside the bowl. "Good job the castle is so cold, really. It keeps it fairly well in the icehouse once I've opened one. Pity they don't do just single-pint cartons at the grocer's. Once summer comes it goes off quicker. I should stop getting them and switch to fresh from the dair—"

"Imogen, I know you are still worried, we all are. But at least she is beginning to wake up. She is over the worst of it. You can't keep reproaching yourself like this. Constance … Constance wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"But I should have **done **something, Davina. I knew she was ill. We all knew she was ill. Why the hell didn't we stop her? That night … I keep seeing that bloody night." Imogen turned and put her hands on her hips. "Before we went back into the staffroom – she looked so damn terrible. For God's sake she had basically collapsed in the dining room! She knew something then – I know she did … and I didn't do anything. I … I don't know why I didn't ju—"

"Imogen, what can you remember about the rest of that evening?"

Imogen paused for a second and closed her eyes as if it would somehow help to bring back a clearer recollection. She sighed, placing her hands behind her neck.

"Not much. You?"

"It's a bit of a blur, to be honest. Pretty much all of it since late Friday evening until … well, until she was stopped." Davina shrugged her shoulders and sighed deeply. She put the teapot on the table and rubbed her eyes, taking her little round glasses off her nose. "I slept well, I know that. I remember Ethel telling me about Drusilla Saturday morning. And … and I remember Phyll— … I mean Agatha coming to see me with another cup of … coffee …" Davina heaved herself into the flowery armchair. She sat for a minute or so in silence before she spoke again.

"At the end of the day it's happened. We couldn't have stopped it. We … just have to … move on," Davina said eventually, looking up at Imogen.

Imogen nodded, wondering where such sane wisdom was coming from, given the woman in front of her was usually at times of crisis chewing the heads off carnations and hiding behind a set of doors in a ridiculously small space.

"I just … I should have done something. It was like … like I was in a dream or something. Not … quite … with it … you know …" Imogen looked at the now-reworking grandfather clock. "We'd best go and organise the girls into some sort of order. I think Fenella and Griselda have drawn up yet **more **plans." She sighed. Clearing her throat, she sniffed and left the staffroom, leaving Davina biting her bottom lip with anxiety.

Imogen wasn't the only one who didn't feel very comfortable right now.

* * *

Mildred and Amelia walked towards Constance's room, noticing immediately the red light above the doors flashing noiselessly. Their faces instantly dropped the ecstatic expressions they had held for a few brief minutes as they neared. It was only the second time they had seen it on, and Mildred had almost forgotten it was there.

The first time, Amelia had barely been aware it was emanating a visual alert until she vaguely caught sight of the gentle yet unsettling red glow above her. She was too busy comforting Mildred at the time to pay much attention, and she knew exactly why it was sounding. But this time, she saw it plain and clear … and panic began to set in.

Amelia felt Mildred slip her hand in hers and grip her fingers in the same way a small child clings to a parent when extremely frightened.

They stood outside the room by the blue chairs, too nervous to sit, straining to hear the muted sounds from within. The blinds on the inner doors' windows were closed. This was not overly unusual, as they frequently were when Constance was being attended to. Somehow, their being closed at this precise moment served only to unnerve the pair even further.

The light suddenly went off. A nurse popped her head out of the room and beckoned them in. Mildred swallowed hard as the nurse gave the pair a very tense smile.

They walked in and surveyed the scene before them. The first thing they detected was a change in the main machine; a difference of sequence and pitch in the usual noises emitted from it. Standing by the bed was Herbert, leaning over Constance and wearing his white coat over his clothing. His face was showing obvious signs of worry. Another nurse was connecting a new and slightly smaller bag than the usual ones into one of her drip lines.

Herbert glanced up. "She's developed pyrexia."

Amelia looked at Herbert for further explanation.

"High temperature, Amelia." Herbert had just removed a blue-and-white handheld device from Constance's ear. It looked rather like a small corded telephone, with a probe and screen on the upper underside part.

Amelia watched her paling deputy once again, the all too familiar feeling of heavy disquiet creeping back into her mind.

They approached nearer as the gowned and gloved nurse who had opened the door removed the oxygen tubing from under Constance's nose and set up a mask with a thick tube to the wall attachment. Herbert put the device he had been holding on the bed and tenderly lifted Constance's head as the nurse placed the mask over her nose and mouth, being cautious not to trap her hair too tightly. He took the remaining lengths and re-twisted them, laying her hair over the pillow and behind her head, out of the way.

Mildred could feel her stomach beginning to churn with fear.

"W-what's wrong? What's happening? Why is that b-back o—?"

"Mildred, **calm down**. She's slipping into unconsciousness again. There seems to be a sign of infection. We are changing her antibiotics to some stronger ones and Dr McNeale is on his way. He is our regular day consultant for the ICU – you've probably already seen him. It's still quite early, so why don't you both go and have some proper rest. I shall come and get you if anything changes."

Mildred glanced up at the clock: 9.26 a.m.

Amelia took Mildred's hand and virtually pulled her the entire way back to Herbert's apartment. They went inside using his spare electronic key card. Mildred sat down on Herbert's bed.

"Miss, could the infection … could it get worse?"

"I think … I think that they will be doing everything in their power to make sure it doesn't, Mildred," Amelia replied, forcing herself to smile.

Mildred picked up on the uncertainty in her voice and fear behind her eyes. She lay back onto the pillows, focusing her mind on the conversation she had had with Constance the previous Friday night.

* * *

Herbert entered the room just over two-and-a-half hours after he had sent Amelia and Mildred ahead.

Amelia was sitting at Herbert's small table with her left hand under her chin, reading Herbert's morning paper and barely taking in the words.

Mildred was curled up on the bed. She had her eyes closed.

"How is –?" Amelia began, removing her glasses as she turned in her seat.

Herbert made his way over to her, his face melancholy. He stood before her.

"Amelia … she … she's very ill. We have been performing a lot of tests over the last couple of hours. Initially, we have been considering the possibility of septicaemia – a form of blood poisoning – as her symptoms are very similar. As you know, she has developed a high temperature – indicative of infection – and she is also presenting with tachycardia – that means her heart is beating too fast. Her respiration rate has increased – resulting in a condition which consequently causes her oxygen saturation to decrease. We have just put her back onto high oxygen therapy – that's the mask with the reservoir bag attached you may remember from before, which seems to be helping her to breathe more easily and is keeping her sats stable. It is more concentrated than the second type of mask we used earlier. Also, her blood pressure is actively dropping and her level of consciousness is decreasing – but that may also be due to the Comatosation still. Now … we have found what we are reasonably sure is causing it …"

Herbert trailed off and hesitated, pausing momentarily before continuing.

"There is some tissue oedema – swelling – around her wound. Currently, there is only some extra fluid production, but nothing to suggest any deeper infection as yet – no pus or visible tissue damage, as if there was necrotic tissue present, she would likely have to have it cut away surgically. In cases like this, sometimes the lines or urine catheter are thought to be the source. All her lines and catheter – the latter we have changed as a precaution anyway and sent the other for testing – are seemingly free of any visible infection and there is no localised swelling around them. That is not to say they couldn't still be the cause in some cases as bacteria is not necessarily visible … But … well, we took some swabs from the wound, and upon further examination of the swabs and her blood, the microscopic substance discovered is the same from both, and the wound is harbouring the highest concentration of this substance. Obviously the wound is heavily involved and it is affecting her bloodstream and having a rebound effect on the rest of her body. Now, the results themselves are very strange, in as much as how quickly we have been able to see it. Culture tests in particular usually take a long time to grow, which is why antibiotic treatments and preventative measures are taken anyway, rather than waiting for them to develop. But the thing is … we cannot identify it. All her previous tests up until today have been clear for anything remotely like this, and, prior to today, her wound seemed to be healing fine. It has literally grabbed hold as if … well … by magic. Dr McNeale is contacting his colleague, who is a fully trained wizard but also a medical consultant, specialised in the use of Sorcermed, which, as you are aware, is the combination of magical and medical treatments used together. The practice, as you likely realise, is often sought for when conventional medicine is not enough. He … is much more qualified in the field than I am and … he may be able to help …"

Herbert cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his other foot. He was visibly troubled and struggling not to show it.

"We have started her on various medications to try and halt the spread of this … whatever it is … and to help control her temperature and other things within her body. And we are also making certain she is hydrated enough and as comfortable as possible, as always. We are quite sure it isn't something that can be spread to others or vice versa. We do not feel isolation procedures are necessary, either for you or her. It is localised within her body and the test results thus far indicate it is very different to something like, say, a pathogen associated with a contagious virus or suchlike. We have other things being tested as well as multiple blood tests, urine, sputum and so forth … but … I am afraid it is once again a waiting game."

Amelia looked over to Mildred.

She was staring at the wall, her eyes wide open – and tears flowing down her face.

"Mildred … I –" Herbert started.

Mildred sat up. Stood, wiped her face with her hands and left the room, not uttering a single word.

* * *

Mildred approached Constance's room, gelling her hands like she always did. Hearing muttered voices inside, she remained standing outside the doors, fidgeting on the spot and chewing her fringe. She cleared her throat loudly, knowing it would likely be heard. The right-hand side door was pushed open.

"Oh, come in, Mildred love, come in. We are finished." The nurse from earlier held the door open for her, then let her colleague through as the pair left, telling her they would be back shortly.

Mildred stepped into the room. She felt her undigested breakfast stirring once more. Constance was breathing with mounting quickness on the oxygen feeding her lungs. She had returned to the same deathly pallor she had been the first night there. Her gown had just been changed. Mildred could see the wound drain still poking through the gap in the material, filling with mildly yellow, red-streaked liquid. The fresh bed sheet had been rolled back, so that it only came up to her lower thighs, and the blanket removed completely from the bed, sitting folded on the locker.

Mildred pulled up her chair, sitting herself close to her. She carefully took her limp hand. Constance did not squeeze Mildred's fingers in return.

Amelia joined her soon after. They both sat in silence watching Constance becoming visibly weaker. Whatever was causing the illness seemed to be ravaging her body without pity. The sounds coming from the monitor were piercing to the air around them, as was the rapid, noisy breathing they wished so much would become as quiet, peaceful and smooth as it had been only a number of hours ago.

Dr McNeale came not long after Amelia's appearance and told them his colleague was on his way, giving his apologies as he had had a pressing appointment come up out of the blue, and stating that Herbert would be with them soon and his other colleague – the alternating ICU consultant Dr Roebuck – was coming on duty in his absence.

Mildred rose from her seat as he left and went into the bathroom. She noticed a white plastic bowl sitting on a shelf with two yellow sponges inside. She washed and dried her hands, then opened Constance's bag and took one of her blue flannels. She ran it under the cold tap, wringing it out so tightly she could feel the material burn across her skin. She walked back over to Constance and gently began to dab her perspiring forehead, cheeks and lower neck, avoiding the electrodes, central line and opposite side dressing.

Amelia stood and quietly left the room, unable to watch. She could feel the muted pain abounding from her pupil. She went and sat in the corridor with her head in her hands.

"Amelia, are you all right?" Herbert was standing by her side. She had not even heard him approach.

"She um … Mildred is … I …" she trailed off, leaning her head back against the wall. She took a deep breath before she had enough courage to ask him to tell her the truth. "Herbert, what … what will h-happen if you can't s-stop the … the … p-problem?" she asked softly, still not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

"It may not come to that … but if we can't control it … then …" Herbert had no need to continue further. The expression on his face was enough to confirm her worst fears.

The pair heard a small sob from inside the room, followed by footsteps. Mildred had been listening at the other side of the door.

"Damn it," Amelia muttered under her breath, picking up on the Amplification Spell still lingering in the air. Herbert held open the door as Amelia stood and re-entered the room.

Mildred bit her inner cheeks hard to stifle the tears flowing down her face. She clutched Constance's hand tighter with her left, still patting her down with the flannel in her other hand.

Herbert and Amelia continued to glance nervously at each other as Herbert took a chair for himself and placed it a little away from the bed, neither knowing quite what to say.

A few minutes later the nurses came back in to perform their observational duties, after which they washed their hands before gloving up and putting on aprons, then one went into the bathroom and proceeded to fill the bowl with tepid water.

"Looks like you already know what you're doing, sweetheart," the nurse said to Mildred kindly as she brought the bowl over, placing it on the trolley at the base of the bed, the lift-top panel having been laid flat by the other nurse, who smiled and said, "You'll be putting us out of a job!"

Mildred forced a reciprocation.

It was not a particularly warm day, still, the room's air conditioning had been switched on to aid with the cooling process.

"You full up?" Herbert addressed the staff.

"Pretty much. Another admission last night," one replied.

Herbert nodded and smiled. "In which case, why don't you go carry on – we'll keep her cool. You must have enough to do."

"Are you sure?"

Mildred nodded.

"Okay, we'll be back soon," the nurse said, beckoning to her colleague to follow as she left.

Amelia went to the sink and washed and dried her hands after blowing her nose quietly. She walked around to the other side of Constance, manoeuvring herself around the monitor, wires and drips with automatic vigilance. She noticed the central venous pressure measuring set-up had been reconnected.

"Right. Mil, can you grab a couple of towels from the shelf, please – just in case. We don't want her soaking," Herbert directed as he washed his own hands. "We can do this on and off to try and help make her more comfortable, as long as we don't cause her to start shivering as it could make things worse."

Herbert went to a trolley and took the small blue-and-white device from earlier and placed a new plastic head on the nozzle. He walked over to Constance and gently put the tip in her left ear, holding the base with his left hand. He noticed the pair watching.

"Just rechecking. This is called a tympanic thermometer. It is a very accurate way to measure her temperature, rather than relying on the skin probe alone."

They heard a bleep a few seconds later. Herbert looked at the small screen.

"It is still very high." Herbert sighed, walking and replacing it on the trolley. He went back over and lifted the bed sheet, feeling her legs. "I think it might be an idea to remove this," he said, taking the sheet completely back. Her legs were still covered with the support stockings, with her gown reaching to just below her knees.

"Should we put gloves on?" Mildred asked.

Herbert shook his head. "If you have washed your hands well, there is no need, really – not for something like this. It is more out of practice guidelines the nurses wear them for practically everything, but you will be able to feel if she is cooling better with your bare skin." Herbert smiled. "Just stay clear of her lines and dressings."

Mildred wrung out a sponge and passed it over to Amelia, then took one for herself, resting the flannel on the side of the bowl. They began to gently pat Constance's face, neck and arms to help cool her down.

Mildred rolled Constance's short sleeve back a little, noticing the red scratch on her left arm. It was incandescent, and seemingly becoming more so in intensity before her eyes. There was no weeping of fluid, but slight redness surrounded the line of scarlet upon her white skin – like a pen-stroke of fluorescent ink.

"Herbert, have you see—?"

"Yes … um … that is why we have called in the specialist. As well as her wound, the scratch was noticeably different during her examinations earlier," Herbert informed them softly. He had deliberately avoided mentioning it before, not wanting to worry them further until he had to. And judging by Amelia and Mildred's faces, they were now instantly thinking what he was.

Amelia was using very delicate, circular movements and wondering if Constance could feel her. She looked at the scars her upper arm, almost afraid that sponging her skin would hurt her, despite the fact they would have obviously healed years ago.

In the hours that followed, the three of them regularly tepid sponged Constance, talking to her as they went along. The nurses had reverted to very frequent observations. Every ten minutes or so they had come into the room, observing the machines or withdrawing blood for more tests. Or else adjusting the oxygen settings, standing and recording the information from the monitor's screen, writing on her chart, removing and replacing bags of various intravenous fluids or injecting medications into her neck and arm lines. The physiotherapy had been discontinued for the time being as she was too ill to withstand it.

Throughout the entire time, except when called upon to leave when the nurses had to attend to Constance's other needs, Mildred barely released her teacher's lifeless hand.

* * *

At nearly six o'clock in the evening, Mildred was again gently wiping Constance's face when her teacher began to tremble rather badly. Her breathing seemed to become noticeably more stressed and agitated at the same time. Herbert was dozing a little in his chair. Amelia was sitting with her eyes shut in hers, hoping it would aid her frightfully acute tension headache. But she was not asleep. She couldn't have relaxed if she wanted to. Herbert's offer of some painkillers was gratefully received, but had done little to help.

"Herbert … what's wrong with her?" Mildred's voice heightened a little with fear.

Herbert immediately opened his eyes and stood. Amelia did the same, jolted from her thoughts.

He reached for the gauge and took her temperature again. It had been taken by the nurses only several minutes earlier.

"It has dropped." Herbert picked up Constance's chart, looking at the last few readings.

Amelia sighed in relief. "That is a good thing, though, isn't it? Herbert?"

Herbert's face was ominous. He walked over to the air conditioning switch on the wall, turning it off. He then replaced the thermometer on a trolley before looking at the monitor's screen for a few seconds, listening to the sequence of the noises.

"Herbert?" Amelia repeated.

"I'll be back in a minute. Cover her up with the sheet and put the blanket on – not all the way up, though."

Amelia looked at Mildred as he left. They pulled the sheet up to Constance's waist, lifting an arm each and placing it very carefully on top before adding the blanket over her legs. She was still shivering.

A minute or so later, Herbert and Dr Roebuck entered. Dr Roebuck had already been in a number of times during the day. She was petite and young-looking, but highly qualified in her field. Her short and elegantly cropped red hair was gelled to the side, yet it was a feminine style, with a curl at the front. Her eyes were a striking green, very complementary to her hair colour. She had numerous freckles on her face, pinky-pale skin and high, model-like, sculpted cheekbones.

Dr Roebuck started to observe the monitor's screen as Herbert put on his stethoscope and listened to Constance's breathing.

Amelia and Mildred stepped back and watched the pair. Dr Roebuck locked eyes with Herbert, nodding ever so slightly.

"Did we cause this?" Mildred asked them nervously.

"No, Mildred. We had to treat the symptoms as they were then – this is not a result of that," Dr Roebuck answered as Herbert was still listening intently.

Before Mildred could say anything further to either of them, the door opened and a tall, austere-looking man entered, clearing his throat as he stepped into the room. Herbert walked over to greet him, as did Dr Roebuck.

"This is Dr Romulus Faulmack. He is an expert in Sorcermed treatments," Herbert explained.

Herbert asked that they please wait outside. Dr Faulmack came back out about fifteen minutes later and walked past without a word, giving only a small smile, followed shortly thereafter by Dr Roebuck, who told them they would be back soon. Then Herbert emerged, forcing a smile on his despondent face. He beckoned them back inside. They went and resumed their positions, both choked into silence with a sickening lump in their throats.

After what seemed like hours the door opened again. Not with yet more nurses coming in to put up more drips or check various observations, but instead entered Herbert, asking them to follow him. He held the door open, letting it close mutely behind them. Outside in the corridor were Dr Roebuck and Dr Faulmack. They walked towards them, both wearing grim expressions on their faces.

"I think perhaps we should go somewhere more private," Dr Roebuck advised, signalling for two nurses to go into Constance's room while they left.

Amelia caught Mildred's gaze.

"C-can you just t-tell us, p-please?" Amelia asked timidly.

The nurses stopped mid-pace. Dr Roebuck shook her head. They turned and went back to their previous duties.

Dr Faulmack smiled gently at them. His greying hair was receding from his hairline; clad in a very dark suit and open white overcoat, his attire seemed to emphasise the serious and unnerving look on his lined face, and his eyes were sorrowful behind his square grey glasses.

"Amelia, Mildred. Constance is going to need to be vented again very shortly. Her body is now beginning to shut down. Her organs will gradually start to fail as already there is significant urine reduction as well as pronounced –"

Dr Faulmack stopped and cleared his throat, remembering what he had been taught many, many years ago about how to explain the patient's condition to the distressed relatives or friends. It had been a while since he had been required to do this particularly heart-rending part of his job.

"I'm so sorry. Let me start again. As you know, her temperature has dropped. It is now below what would be perceived as normal. This likely means – given her current status – that her body is no longer trying to fight against what is happening to it. Her wound is now starting to show signs of tissue damage and the beginnings of severe infection. I am quite certain, looking at the evidence, that the primary cause is related to the scratch on her arm, which, in turn, is most definitely affecting her wound and blood – the content of which is something I have never in my entire career come across. In a nutshell, this unknown 'venom' she was scratched with appears to be causing the reaction within the wound itself, and the result is, undeniably, very akin to medical septicaemia. The usual treatments for this she has been receiving for over eight hours and, granted, they can take a while to show some improvement; however, she is deteriorating faster than we can treat her. We have been reluctant to intubate before now due to both the nature of her condition, and also the amount of magic already involved. Truthfully, her deterioration – particularly within the last hour – is greater than I have witnessed before with similar types of situations involving magic. The plan now is to take full control of her breathing and perhaps try several different forms of further treatment – conventional and magical – as well as addressing the problems with her internal organs – kidney function and suchlike. But I must prepare you for the fact they may not work. We have called for her surgeon to reassess her wound to see if perhaps excision would have any effect on removing what will soon advance to necrotic tissue. But, in the end, all we may be able to do is make her as comfortable as possible. I am so very sorry," Dr Faulmack finished solemnly.

Amelia nodded, blinking as tears fell down her face. She took a gasp for air, having been practically holding her breath as he spoke. Herbert took her arm and sat her down as her legs suddenly seemed to turn to jelly. Mildred quickly walked past and took herself back into Constance's room, leaving the four in the corridor.

Mildred sat down in her chair, taking Constance's hand and staring at her, trying to hold back the intense craving she had to trash the room.

Amelia, Herbert and the two doctors entered and stood by the bedside.

Mildred did not respond to their presence. She sat thinking desperately, fully aware that all four were watching her.

For a few moments, none of them spoke.

_Oh … my … what if …? _Mildred lifted her head. "MISS CACKLE – I NEED THE ALMANAC!" she shouted, leaping up from her chair.

"M-Mildred, you … y-you what?" Amelia stammered.

"The scratch – the venom. We know Agatha poisoned her, but what if Agatha used something from the actual **book**? It's bound to have some sort of reversal spell!"

The revelation dawned on Amelia. Her eyes widened.

"It's in my cloak –" Mildred shot from the room, running as fast she could back to Herbert's apartment.

She found the door locked – of course – Miss Cackle had the key. She quickly muttered an appropriate, if overenthusiastic, spell – given that the door banged loudly back against the wall, rocking the hinges – and flew inside. She rummaged through her rucksack and pulled out her folded black cloak. She took the book from the inside pocket and raced back to Constance's room, taking the several flights of stairs two and three steps at a time rather than wait for the lift. She entered the room, hastily untying the book. Panting heavily, she put it out in front of her at arm's length, fully opening it to the beginning of the blank pages …

Amelia, Herbert, Dr Roebuck and Dr Faulmack watched fascinated as the book glowed brightly in her hands.

The redness emanated around the room. She placed her right hand above the book and her other beneath. The pages started to turn themselves over and over as if there was a breeze billowing through. Mildred looked like she was in a trance. No longer breathless, her eyes were closed and body still. The blank pages were filling with spells, incantations and potions …

Mildred suddenly opened her eyes and the sheets of paper halted as if someone had slammed their hands down on the pages themselves:

_Tnemetaba Nixot_

"I think this may stop it." Mildred held up the book. "We **have **to at least try!"

Herbert looked at his colleagues. They nodded.

Mildred neared the bed. Constance's worsening respiration was increasing in shallowness. She was still trembling. In the time it had taken Mildred to leave and come back, Constance's condition had altered drastically. Her face and lips had taken on a slightly bluish tinge. Her skin surrounding the various lines was becoming marginally pinker, and her chest movement seemed to be reducing in height with each breath.

_It __**will**__ work_, Mildred told herself. _**It has to **__…_

Mildred pushed the unwanted thoughts to the back of her mind. She held up the book in front of her and began to recite the words:

"_Eb Denekawa Morf Ruoy Rebmuls Tub Ton Reverof Uoy Llahs Esir Ylno Emit Llahs Eb Ruoy Ymene Litnu Eht Yad Uoy Esolc Ruoy Seye …_"

When she finished she looked up, expecting an immediate reaction. Constance had not changed. Mildred sank onto the chair and put her head in her hands, the book dropping to the floor and sliding just beneath the bed, still open on the page.

The following events happened very quickly.

Constance's body went from trembling to shaking, becoming more violent before it abruptly stopped. Within seconds, an eerie white glow surrounded her. It overwhelmed the room. Her entire body lifted a few inches from the bed, pulling slightly on her various tubing and lead attachments. Then there was an intense blast of dazzling light. Slowly, she floated back down. As quickly as the haze had appeared it vanished. Constance let out a small exhalation as her body became completely motionless.

Herbert, Dr Roebuck and Dr Faulmack hurriedly approached the bed, still blinking spots from their eyes.

Constance then took a deep, smooth breath … and another … and another …

Herbert lifted her hospital gown sleeve a little and looked at the topmost part of her left arm. The previously glowing red scratch was beginning to fade, the skin on her neck and arms clearing of all visible blemishes before his eyes. He felt her forehead with his palm, listening to her sounding heartbeat and glancing at the monitor's screen.

"Mildred … I … I think you've done it …"

Mildred looked up in disbelief. Amelia leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms across her body. She had gone unnoticed in the corner of the room, behind the door.

Mildred suddenly flopped back in her chair, closing her eyes as a wave of nausea and exhaustion swept over her.

"Oh – my dear," Dr Roebuck rushed forwards, immediately assessing the wan young lady before her.

Herbert stepped towards them. "Come on, poppet. You really **do **need to lie down," Herbert said softly. Dr Roebuck stepped back as Herbert lifted Mildred up. She barely had the strength to wrap her arms around his neck. He steadied himself and carried her back to his room.

The consultants remained for a while, examining and checking that Constance was indeed stabilising as two nurses joined them, all of them muttering to each other in complete astonishment.

Herbert placed Mildred onto his bed, removing her trainers. He wrapped her up in the duvet as Amelia slowly walked through the door. Her face was drip white. She climbed on beside Mildred, who had closed her eyes against the bright light of the room. He turned off the switch, leaving the pair to sleep.

* * *

Herbert picked up the Almanac from under Constance's bed, having a double take at its appearance.

Constance was to remain on oxygen but already her vital signs were improving dramatically. He smiled down at her, watching her sleeping peacefully.

He failed to notice as he closed the open book the faint words written at the bottom of the page.

* * *

Mildred and Amelia awoke the following morning, startled to realised they had slept for so long. They hurriedly showered, changed and made their way to see Constance, knowing that if anything had happened, Herbert would have been the first to tell them.

"Mildred, are you sure you wouldn't like anything to eat?" Amelia asked, concerned by the hollowness of Mildred's cheeks.

"I don't think I could swallow it, Miss."

Amelia sighed.

They walked down the now very familiar path to where Constance's room was situated. They could hear voices within so sat outside on the seats to wait.

Herbert peeked his head out of the door. "Morning. Come on in, she's been awake for about ten minutes."

Amelia and Mildred stood back as two smiling nurses came out, yet more different ones to Brenda and Charlotte.

Mildred rushed in, partly expecting to see her sitting up and chatting and was dismayed to see she was still lying down.

Herbert noticed. "It **will **still take some considerable time, Mildred. Her muscle tone is improving and she is managing to swallow much better. She will still have the oxygen for a while yet until her lungs pick up, but it's not as potent. All very good signs."

The monitor was steadily bleeping away, making sure she remained stable. The drip bags had recently been refreshed after Constance had been attended to that morning. And although they were still measuring her central venous pressure as a precaution, her oxygen mask had already been switched to the nasal cannula, signifying her marked improvement.

"We will keep an eye on her CVP for another day or so – just to be certain her heart and things are functioning okay – and continue to maintain several of her other medications and treatments, but it is looking promising. There are still culture tests and other results to come back, of course, but I don't expect they will show anything more. Her wound has reverted to how it should look following surgery, and even her lines are perfectly fine and intact. I have never seen anything like it. It appears to have been completely eradicated." Herbert turned and smiled at Constance. "Just keep chatting to her. I've brought some music down from my room: Tchaikovsky – I'm sure she'll love it."

Mildred walked around the bed. Constance followed her with her tiring eyelids and blinked in response. Mildred pulled up her chair and took her usual seat. This time, Constance, very slowly, partially turned and managed to partly open her left hand ready for Mildred's.

Amelia wiped her eyes and replaced her tissue back up her black cardigan sleeve before sitting herself at the opposite side of the bed, taking her other hand.

Herbert left them, Amelia telling a now quietly sleeping Constance about Fenella and Griselda's **slight** incident the day before last, concerning them, the first-years, the broom shed, three cans of rainbow paint … and a rather colourfully enraged Imogen …

Playing in the background was the beautifully soothing second act of Swan Lake.


	19. Chapter 19

**'****Tiny' Author's Note**

Hi, everyone!

*waves*

I know, I know, but I simply couldn't resist a little chat before the next one!

Firstly, apologies (again) for the delay – life has a habit of interfering with my plans.

Secondly, THANK YOU to everyone reading this, especially those taking the time to review.

And thirdly … um … not much, really. Frankly, I just like to talk! :D But I must mention that there is a little something in here in way of 'homage' to a certain person, and I daresay they will soon spot it!

Hope you don't mind, hun, but hey – you **did **say I could borrow your stuff! ;)

So, here is nineteen at long last, and thanks again to everyone – you all make my month!

NCD :)

* * *

**UPDATED: 25TH JUNE 2009**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 19**

* * *

Enid awoke suddenly, jumping slightly as the stretched-out leg next to her moved, flicking over the sheet and blanket. The attached body of the limb released a small grunt at the same time.

Once again, the three pupils had found themselves together a third night. Enid turned to look at Maud. She was snoring gently, with her head pushed sideways against the pillow. Ethel was at the other side of Maud, finally asleep after another nightmare. Enid sat up a little and watched the pair, wondering quite how she had managed not to land on the floor again, considering the amount of room they had left her. Lifting Maud's leg off hers, she sat up straighter, thinking quietly for a few minutes. She had never see Ethel so … uncontrolled. So freaked out.

She pondered what on earth could have happened to cause such a difference in her behaviour. _Was it just Miss Hardbroom? _They had been shocked and upset, of course. Well, more than upset – most pupils were not generally witness to their teacher being stabbed. Enid doubted she would be able to think about much else for a while to come. But Ethel … and Mildred – they had taken it so badly.

Miss Bat had sat them down last Sunday afternoon, asking if they felt they needed to talk to either her or Miss Drill or to see their parents, who, as yet, had not been informed of the present circumstances. All three told her they were fine, Ethel once again stating she had no wish to see her father.

Enid crawled out silently from the bed, pulling the covers back over her friend. She picked up a sleeping Teaser before creeping from the room, her mind buzzing.

* * *

Mildred yawned and turned her neck, hearing a series of dull clicks as she rolled her head around, relaxing the tense muscles. She glanced at Constance. Her eyes were shut and head tilted a little towards Mildred. It wasn't surprising. She had been fairly awake for a good half-hour or so earlier. She had tried to talk a few times, only managing a slight whisper of noise. She was obviously still very disorientated. Mildred glanced at the clock: 7.42 a.m. Herbert had been in late the previous night. He was somewhat worried about Mildred getting enough rest herself. Mildred had assured him she was fine. Amelia had left about 10.30 p.m., having decided she ought to go and update the school.

Mildred sank back into her chair, wrapping her hands around her neck, her mind once again elsewhere.

* * *

Amelia gazed lethargically around her blue office, removing her glasses. The piles and piles of post from various organisations offering her broomstick insurance, double-glazed windows, electricity installation, cauldron cover, internet access and about ten other things scattered her desk. There was yet another one from a rather irritating company who persistently bothered them trying to sell them a new kitchen with half-price fittings and six months' interest-free credit! Thankfully, hardly anyone but the parents, Federation, Witches' Guild and Board of Governors had their telephone number.

She sighed as Morgana meowed loudly, nudging her feet under her desk. Amelia conjured up another kipper. Magical food may not fill one up indefinitely, but it still felt like plenty of calories to the recipient at the time. Constance was certainly going to come back to a rather more demanding cat than before, if not any fatter.

Tabby was crawling above her fireplace, gingerly placing his paws in the spaces surrounding the decorative items on top, thoroughly determined to pass them. Quite how he was managing to balance on such a narrow ledge Amelia didn't know. But Tabby being the inept yet lovable creature he was practically guaranteed that mayhem was never far behind. So unsurprisingly, a few seconds later, he knocked an antique plate off with his tail. Amelia quickly suspended it in mid-air before it smashed.

"For goodness' sake, Tabby! You will give me a heart attack before long."

He had already caused several trinkets to tumble off her corner shelves earlier.

Amelia leaned back in her chair as the plate replaced itself on the mantle, thinking about the time Tabby was ousted off to the kitchen, and then the very near disaster that followed at Rowan-Webb's retreat. And if truth be known, it was Amelia and not Constance who came up with the idea. And yet she unfairly requested Constance to tell Mildred, thus Constance came across as the instigator. Mildred assumed it was Constance's doing and Amelia let her. Guilt crept into her mind as she realised how glad she was that Mildred still had Tabby for comfort several months after that trip.

Imogen knocked lightly on the door, pulling Amelia from her thoughts.

"Come in."

"Morning, Amelia."

"Good morning, Imogen."

Imogen smiled and sat down on one of the two chairs placed in front of Amelia's desk.

"Davina is on her way and the girls have started breakfast. Mrs Tapioca has been attempting to make some pancakes with a few of the first-years," Imogen informed her.

Amelia smiled a little. _The kitchen ceiling needs plastering, anyway._

Davina knocked and entered the room, closing the door behind her. She sat on the chair at the side of Imogen.

"How is she?" they enquired almost simultaneously. Herbert had telephoned the school on Thursday evening, stating that Constance had not been particularly well, so Amelia was going to stop overnight and likely remain for a while longer. He had not elaborated further to Imogen at the time.

"Is Algernon around?" Amelia asked Davina.

"Um … he's trying to unstick pancakes at the moment. Unsuccessfully."

"You can update him and Egbert later, then." Amelia smiled nervously. She stood up to the window, gazing out of the leaded squares, deliberately avoiding looking at their faces as she spoke. She talked them through the day before last. It had been very late when she arrived back last night and, feeling somewhat exhausted, she had gone straight to bed.

After Amelia had finished speaking, Imogen, looking somewhat pale, released a shocked gasp. "She … she conjured the spell herself?"

Amelia turned around and nodded softly, tears flowing down her face as the significance of the otherwise almost certain outcome once again struck her.

"B-but … h-how … d-did?" Imogen stuttered.

Davina said nothing. Her face was white. She had never heard of such strength of power, let alone witnessed it.

"B-but she is … the … t-the spell stopped it?" Imogen continued, still somewhat agog. A non-witch she may be, and very defensive of that status, but in truth, most of the time, she was secretly rather intrigued by what magic could accomplish. But this was something she never imagined was even possible.

"It appears so. I … really t-thought …" Amelia swallowed, taking a deep breath.

Davina cleared her throat. "Amelia, I er … Ethel is still rather distressed. For the past three nights she has been in with Maud, and Enid, too. I don't think she's coping very well."

Amelia wiped her face and reseated herself. "Have they said much?"

"Not really. All three have said repeatedly they are fine, which they cannot possibly be, but they will talk if and when they are ready," Imogen added. She was somewhat familiar with building up barriers and hiding her feelings. Until they came crashing down, anyway.

"I think we should keep a very close eye on them. Especially Ethel."

Davina and Imogen nodded in agreement.

"Has, um … has George arrived back yet?" Amelia enquired hesitantly.

Davina shook her head. "No. No word from him as yet, Amelia. But perhaps that's a good thing … For now."

Frank Blossom had recommended they hire his friend George Roots – a carpenter by trade – to help with the running of the school's caretaking duties while Frank and his brother, Ted, went to Australia to visit their extended family for a few months. Frank met George at the local village pub in early January. Frank and Ted had noticed him watching them playing dominoes, so they asked him to join and got to know him. He was a lonely type of fellow and down on his luck. Quietly spoken, meek and mild-mannered. He lived with his elderly mother at the other side of the village. He had never married, but he was a pleasant-looking and kind-hearted man. George had started during the second week of the Summer Term, but had been called home suddenly in early May to attend to his ill mother. He had now been gone just over two weeks. Amelia and her staff had just about managed to cope without him, allowing for the odd hiccup … or three!

Frank had told them George would be unable to start before the new term began as he had unfortunately broken his ankle while out walking during a snowstorm, so was consequently laid-up for a number of weeks. Frank had often done the majority of heavy-handed jobs without the girls hanging around, but there were only a few things which needed doing at that point, so it was nothing to get in a tizzy over. So of course, Amelia was somewhat surprised when George turned up out of the blue asking what little bits required sorting, stating he was still unable to come until a couple of weeks into term as something had cropped up, but that he thought he should make a start. It was only after Agatha elaborated on her scheme that Amelia realised her sister must have somehow taken on his appearance and pretended to be him in order to infiltrate the castle. Amelia thought back to when George started officially: he had greeted her as if for the first time – and didn't make any kind of reference to having been there before when she mentioned the kitchen shelves were perfect, despite him having built them with his still-potted foot. Amelia simply thought it was just one of his little quirks (as he had quite a few), and he often seemed 'away with the fairies'. She didn't think anything more of it. But now, she wasn't entirely sure how to tell him what had occurred, knowing he would likely be absolutely horrified. So many things still didn't make any sense. Amelia was tempted for safety's sake to request he not return at all. But she felt she owed him an explanation. Besides, one thing was certain: he was not Agatha this time.

"So …" Amelia began, sniffing and shaking her head slightly as she cleared her throat. "What else needs to be dealt with?"

* * *

Constance stirred. She opened her eyes slowly, the room progressively clearing into focus. Mildred wasn't there. She blinked a number of times and tried to move her left arm. She managed a few inches before overwhelming exhaustion seized her. Within a couple of seconds, her eyes had closed again …

_**Constance stared down at the bodies of her parents, barely able to move. Her mind was fixed in disbelief, refusing to acknowledge that the moment was truly happening. In her mother's heart was a gaping wound. She knew instantly it was where a sharp, shiny and elongated black diamond-shaped stone had been removed from only a short while ago. Her mother was covered in blood, her snow-white face stark against the pooled redness. Her father was lying prostrate beside her mother, clutching her hand. His face was aghast and twisted, and dulling eyes open and staring. In his chest was a serrated kitchen knife. Constance began to scream unceasingly, before suddenly dropping to the green-marbled, heavily bloodied floor.**_

_**Several days later, Constance was once again in the same spot, curled up in a ball and staring at the sterile remains left from the forensic team. She looked around at her home for the last time. Henbane and Hecketty Broomhead picked her up stiffly from the ground, both smiling maliciously at the area where the two bodies had been removed from, gratefully thanking whoever killed them.**_

_**The small figure of nine-year-old Constance stood in the doorway of her new residence. She entered, her rod-like back straight as the gripping hand on her right shoulder moved her delicate body. To her immediate right was an open door, leading into a cramped, dimly lit room. The hand above her pushed the creaky door open a little more as she moved forwards a few steps. The fireplace situated in the middle of the opposite wall was burning ferociously with the smell of paper when rapidly igniting. She glanced at the dozens of volumes on the high, gloomily dark bookcases all around the walls. The once magnolia wallpaper was yellowed from years of cigarette smoke. The lit wicks of three brass oil lamps sitting on an antique coffee table flickered as the draught from the chimney expelled into the room with vigour, threatening to extinguish the fierce flames of the fire. Two large, high-backed, upholstered chairs with mahogany feet were placed almost opposite each other by the far left wall. The previously light-cream floral patterning was now a tar-stained, washy brown, and the tassels hanging from the bases threadbare and stringy. In front of the right-hand side window was a square walnut table. Sitting on the top was an old, cracked book, with leathery pinkish-brown binding, tied with a frayed red ribbon. The chair was facing towards the room, with the back of the seat directly in front of the condensed windowsill. The green curtains on the old cast-iron rail were grotty with dirt, trailing downwards to the scratched wooden floor. Beneath the window was a small puddle of water, dripping from the poorly sealed leaded glass. Pounding on the window was a torrential flood of rain, shattering the room's thick atmosphere like thousands of rice grains pelting against a metal tin.**_

_**Constance was forced further into the room. She fell into the table, the corner hitting her sharply in the stomach. As she looked down at object in front of her, the bloodied pentagram began to focalise in her vision …**_

* * *

"Hmm … her heartbeat is a little fast …"

The quickened bleeping of the monitor was sounding within the room.

Dr Hudson McNeale was leaning over Constance's left, listening through his stethoscope to her heart and breathing.

Constance jumped and opened her eyes. Mildred was standing beside her right, noticing immediately the fright on Constance's face.

"It's okay. I'm back now. Herbert took me to a café and forced two chocolate croissants down me."

Mildred looked more closely at her teacher, sensing her uneasiness. She gently moved her hand to hers.

Constance slowly breathed outwards. She clung to Mildred's offered fingers and shut her eyes again, her heart rate gradually decreasing.

"I think she may have been dreaming," he told Mildred. "She seems all right now, but I shall call back later. Herbert will be back in a bit, he has a few errands to run," he said, smiling. He knew precisely which café his most trusted friend had taken Mildred to: the one with the exceptionally good carrot-and-apple cake with cream-cheese frosting, made by the exceptionally attractive shop owner. Herbert usually went there every Saturday morning before doing his usual check-ups out and about. And if Hudson wasn't working, he usually went along with him, if only to flirt with the proprietor. He had yet to pluck up the courage to ask her for dinner. Herbert thought it was hilarious – given Hudson's long list of qualifications and ability to perform complex procedures – that he couldn't even ask her out!

Just then, Charlotte came back into the room.

"She okay, Hudson?" Charlotte addressed him as she moved over to her colleague. Brenda was writing notes on Constance's chart, leaning on the trolley at the end of the bed.

"Yes, I think so. Better to be safe, though, Lottie."

Brenda and Charlotte had attended to Constance as usual a while ago, having changed her gown, stockings and sheets, re-sited her cannulas once again, and also organised her various drips as well as a few other required duties. Hudson had made a point of seeing Constance first on his rounds. Herbert had given him the full lowdown extremely late on Thursday evening, after which the pair had gone to see Constance. It was the small hours of the morning by then, but she was sleeping so deeply they doubted she was aware of them. Friday he was away, but he was rather eager to see the results for a second time.

So following on from her examinations earlier, between himself, his colleagues and Herbert, who had added his input very early that morning, Hudson had decided firstly that the central venous pressure measuring could now be relaxed again. Also, her wound drain had been removed that morning after the dressing had been changed, as there was no longer any surplus fluid seeping out. The dietician had consulted Constance herself regarding her treatment and agreed that it would all right for Constance to continue on nutrient feeds through her central line as well as her usual drips, and to try very light eating in a couple of days, rather than place a feeding tube in. Constance may have been semiconscious at the time of the query, but she was awake enough to indicate she did not want yet another tube in her body. The physiotherapy was to be reviewed in another day or so, and fortunately, so far, she had no signs of any skin tenderness or sores forming from her immobility. Dr Faulmack had left already, needed elsewhere, but he intended to return at some point to view her progress and review her medical notes.

So all that remained now was to let her recover with a little help from the continuing medications and treatments to aid her body, and allow the residual effects of the Comatosation to gradually leave her system.

But after Hudson had left the first time, Brenda and Charlotte had finished doing their usual observations and were about to leave when the monitor alerted them, indicating a slight increase in Constance's heart rhythm and a rise in her blood pressure. Mildred had arrived back at that precise moment and dashed in. As it happened, Hudson was still in the corridor progressing on the rounds with his colleagues, so Brenda had called him back in.

"If you get concerned again I won't be far away, although we have a few newbies in today – they sure know how to pick their times …" Hudson sighed, rolling his eyes.

It was not the best of weeks for him to be having the very junior doctors around. And due to both himself and Dr Roebuck doing a few courses to improve their understanding of 'more efficient clinical management procedures' – one of the clinical director's 'great' ideas – it was frankly not the best of months, either, as their usual shift pattern had been a tad disrupted. Hudson's view of his job was to treat his patients exactly like he would his own family; the clinical director's idea of running the unit was meeting targets and staying well within the budget. So to then throw young SHOs into the mix just about topped it off. Granted, they all had to learn, but today, Hudson was very tempted to leave his registrars to it! A workaholic he may be, but on occasion, if he could escape to a certain café and hide, he would.

Hudson walked around the bed and watched the screen for several seconds.

"She's not doing too badly. Hopefully we will be able to reduce the strength of the oxygen a little more in a day or so."

He smiled and winked at Mildred. Mildred smiled back as he left the room.

Charlotte sighed dreamily. "Isn't he lovely …"

Brenda laughed. "Pity you are already taken. Actually, pity **I **am already taken, too! Has he said you can call him Hudson yet?" Brenda asked Mildred.

Mildred shook her head.

"He will do. I have never known a doctor like him, other than Herbert. The pair of them together – you'd never think they were doctors as they treat everyone they meet like best friends rather than the typical abrupt, bureaucratic –"

"Ahem, ahem," Charlotte raised her eyebrows at Brenda and leaned over to whisper in Mildred's ear. "She means like the clinical director. He rubs everyone the wrong way – even the fish in his office are narked with him ninety per cent of the time."

Mildred laughed. She looked at Constance. She was smiling ever so slightly with her eyes shut.

A head suddenly peeked around the door. "Oh I forgot, Mil – feel free to call me Hudson." He smiled. "Oh, and incidentally, Herbert prefers Herbie – **not **that you heard that from me …" He winked again, grinned and left.

Brenda, Charlotte and Mildred cracked into laughter.

The two nurses double-checked everything was as it should be and told the pair they would be back in a little while.

Mildred released Constance's hand and walked around to the other side of the bed, pulling her chair over and sitting herself down. Constance was apparently sleeping again. Mildred pulled out her magazine from down the side of the chair and began to read quietly, automatically taking and holding Constance's other hand tightly.

* * *

Ethel was in her room. It was later that morning. Very nearly lunchtime, in fact.

She was lying back on her bed, her mind still going over the events of the last week. She went to her wardrobe, pulled open one door and picked up a shoebox. She rummaged inside until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out an old sepia photograph of a young woman, dressed in a seemingly black-and-white wedding dress, comprising of crushed velvet and gold beading. Her dark, glossy, ringlet-curled hair was piled high upon her head, her tiara and matching ring glistening and face smiling. She was sitting next to a handsome man. He was wearing a black tailcoat, complete with white shirt, bow tie and top hat. Replacing the box, Ethel wiped a tear from her face and put the photo under her pillow. She walked to the door to proceed to lunch, which was to be followed by Miss Bat's recently announced 'Afternoon Gardening Extravaganza!'. She rolled her eyes, thinking there were much better ways to spend a Saturday.

* * *

Mildred stood back admiring her handiwork. Constance now had long flows of silky, glowing hair behind her head.

The nurses had washed her hair early on in the afternoon, after letting her rest a while. They started by pulling the bed out and removing the bedhead, then freeing the pillow area. Brenda and Charlotte had supported her head, neck and body as the third nurse, a tall platinum blonde called Jo, brought over the apparatus and placed Constance's neck carefully back against a cushioned ramp which led down into a large bowl, similar to a baby's bath, sitting on the emptied pillow area on top of a rubber sheet to avoid spillage.

After making sure her central line was covered and dry and the lumen tubes briefly disconnected from their current usage, Mildred had helped gently rub in her shampoo and then her conditioner, rinsing them off with several large jugs of warm water from another bowl, before delighting in using the previous day's gained knowledge from Miss Cackle to dry her hair instantly. The nurses had then cleared the area and laid Constance back down on her newly replaced pillows as Mildred had fetched Constance's brush and proceeded to groom her locks, having positioned herself in the gap behind the bed. But after about one hundred strokes, her arms had been beginning to object somewhat.

Mildred finally stopped admiring the view and moved back behind the bed to give another quick run through, then leaned over above Constance's head and grinned.

"I take it you don't want pigtails doing, then?"

Constance raised her eyebrows and tutted softly.

Mildred took the lengths and very loosely twisted them back onto the pillow.

"Actually, the reason we didn't plait it is down to Brenda here, isn't it?" Charlotte laughed.

"I just **knew **you'd bring that up!"

Mildred looked at Brenda, thoroughly intrigued.

Brenda sighed. "Well, we had this patient in a few years ago whose hair was about six inches longer than yours is, Constance. So I thought it would be better to plait it rather than leave it loose, and no good trying to put a theatre cap on as there really was too much to put behind the patient's head – they had enough fun with that in her surgery. So I plaited it all nice and neat and it stayed liked that … Until the patient came round properly and informed me the base of the plait beneath her head had been very uncomfortable and she couldn't do a thing about it. So I decided loose twisting was the way to go."

"And accidentally snagging it on the bedhead twice didn't help, either, did it, dear?" Charlotte grinned, along with Jo, who had been sorting the washing equipment in the bathroom and come out laughing.

"Oh, be fair – it was my **first** week in ICU!" Brenda stressed, blushing.

Mildred giggled. She went into the bathroom and re-emerged with a flannel, toothbrush and toothpaste from Constance's bag. The three nurses met each other's eyes, smiling and watching silently as Mildred put some paste on the brush and took a fresh glass of water from the top of Constance's locker, standing along the wall beside the bed.

Brenda and Charlotte lifted Constance's head and torso once again, moving her slowly and gently, as always, so that she did not become too dizzy or faint as she had been lying down for so long. Mildred carefully swabbed the brush around her teeth and gave her a tiny sip of water which Constance managed to briefly swish around before spitting it back out into the tumbler. Mildred dabbed her mouth with the flannel then put the objects back onto the locker top. Finally, she took the lip salve acquired earlier from Brenda out of her pocket and rubbed it softly around Constance's lips.

"All done."

Constance smiled in gratitude, her mouth feeling distinctly better than five minutes ago.

Jo refitted the bedhead as they laid her back again on her pillows – slightly higher than before as Constance had indicated she would like lifting up a little. Constance winced as the movement pulled her stitches. Brenda and Charlotte then repositioned her bed back against the wall as Jo left the room, before washing their hands once again, gloving up and reconnecting her drip lines and sorting her tubing and leads. Then Brenda double-checked her oxygen saturation, ensuring the tube was still in place properly, as well as rechecking her A-line, pulse ox lead and monitor, during which Charlotte adjusted Constance's previously rolled back sheet and blanket, tucking them neatly around her. They smiled and told them they would see them later. Constance closed her weary eyes again as Mildred put her things away and began fiddling with a box of tissues …

_**Constance looked down at the book, her facial expression covered by her long hair draped around her shoulders, the tresses tumbling in loose, wavy curls onto her black dress.**_

_**"PICK IT UP!" screamed the voice behind her.**_

_**Her trembling hands reached in front of her and slowly untied the crimson ribbon. The second her fingertips touched the binding the book began to glow red. It pierced the dull room with a bright hue of colour. As she opened the book further the redness emitted became blindingly intense.**_

_**"OPEN IT TO THE BACK!"**_

_**Constance gingerly took the book and did as requested.**_

_**"The other way, you stupid girl!"**_

_**A harsh hand swiped the top of Constance's head in impatience.**_

_**Constance continued to flick through the book, trying not to show her fear, knowing she now had little choice.**_

_**The yellowed blank pages were beginning to fill with spells, incantations and potions. **_

_**Henbane smiled with gratification. She violently pushed her niece onto the cold, hard chair beside the table, instantly conjuring up several sheets of paper, a quill and ink.**_

_**"BEGIN!"**_

_**Constance surreptitiously wiped a tear from her face and began to write shakily, her eyes glancing only once at the still-burning photographs in the fireplace …**_

* * *

"Hey, hey, you're okay, it's **okay **…"

Mildred had stood and was stroking Constance's forehead. Constance half-opened her eyes, vaguely aware of a few droplets of sweat trickling down her brow.

A nurse came in, having just begun her afternoon shift, alerted by Constance's increased heartbeat. She approached the bed as Mildred fetched a damp flannel and tenderly wiped Constance's face.

"Another dream?"

Mildred nodded as Constance took several breaths rather quickly, still trying to awaken properly.

The nurse began to observe the screen for a number of seconds, watching her heart rate and blood pressure steadily lessen in speed and elevation as Constance came round a little more.

"There, it's settling a bit. Bet it feels like someone is thumping about inside there, doesn't it?"

Constance gave a small smile as her respiration calmed. The nurse busied herself for a few minutes, checking her drips and lines while glancing now and again at the screen, not wanting to alarm either of them but keeping an eye on things all the same. She took Constance's chart and made a few notes, watching as her patient's eyelids began to droop again.

"You'll be okay now. Try and rest, sweetheart, I'll be back in a bit," she said, smiling and patting Constance's hand as she left.

Constance forced her eyes open and looked at Mildred.

"M-i-l –"

She tried to get the words to come out. Frustration hit her as waves of disorientation began to swing back at her thoughts. Unable to fight any longer, she gave in and allowed her eyes to close fully as her body pulled her back into deep slumber once more. Mildred repositioned herself beside her and took Constance's marginally trembling hand.

* * *

Amelia was flying. She glimpsed now and again at the speeding green and occasion grey beneath her. Her ever faithful broomstick knew exactly where it was going, almost like having someone else piloting it. She pondered over her conversation with Imogen and Davina: they were not the only ones who had never seen such a display of magic: it was almost as if the book knew what Mildred needed before she did.

Nearly an hour later, Amelia landed on the roof as was now a very familiar pattern. She made her way over to the doors and entered, arranging her broom, removing her hat and taking the lift down to the ICU.

As the lift doors opened Herbert stepped in as she was stepping out. He held the lift stationary as they talked.

"How's she doing?"

"Oh, pretty well, I think. I just got back from visiting one of my previous patients. Lovely little lady, one hundred next month, lives in the village near your school. Mildred's still with her, of course. I've told her she's got ten minutes to get back for some dinner; I'm having spaghetti bolognese sent up. I presume you will be joining us?"

"I'd be delighted."

"See you in ten, then." He smiled as the doors slid closed, taking him up to his apartment.

* * *

Constance fluttered her eyelids open just as Mildred had quietly stood up to leave, preceded by Herbert then two nurses who had just left, having been in performing their various tasks. Mildred turned and saw her watching.

"I'll be back soon, Herbert's **insisting** I eat a decent meal," she said, rolling her eyes.

Constance smiled a little, and then nodded ever so slightly in concurrence with Herbert.

Amelia stepped into the room.

"Go on up, Mildred. I will follow shortly."

Mildred gave Constance's hand a quick squeeze and left the room, letting the door swing quietly shut behind her.

Amelia walked around the bed and sat in Mildred's chair beside her. Constance slowly lifted her watery gaze and met Amelia's eyes.

"Don't start, madam – or you'll have me going," Amelia croaked, taking her hand.

Constance closed her eyes again. Amelia watched her for a few minutes before gently removing her hand and walking silently from the room.

* * *

Ethel was sitting on her bed and staring at her photograph, wetness welling and blurring her vision. She had always known that her Great-Aunt Etheliana and great-uncle had died when she was still very young. But she could still remember them. She was never told why or how. Just that it had been deep, unspeakable magic. And not to ask questions.

* * *

Mildred lifted her fork, curling the remains of her spaghetti onto it and placing it into her mouth. She still felt pretty queasy from the croissants, having politely refused Herbert's offer of a packed lunch for later in the day, which he had thankfully had not argued over this time, but figured she would feel much worse if Herbert chained her to a drip … which he had threatened to do on at least five occasions.

Amelia sat back a little from the table, wiping her mouth with a white napkin.

"Mmmhmm very, very nice. Thank you, Herbert."

Herbert smiled. He lifted up the finished plates and replaced them on the trolley.

"Strawberry cheesecake, anyone?"

* * *

Constance was staring up at the ceiling, trying to muster the strength to speak. Swallowing was much easier, at least. She turned her head as Hudson and another man entered the room. He was fairly tall, robust and balding, but had a kind-looking, rounded face. His clothing looked rather old-fashioned. A starched white shirt, blue corduroy trousers and green-and-gold patterned braces. His collar was unfastened and turquoise tie loosened a little, as if he had redressed rather hurriedly.

"Hello, Constance, my dear – it's nice to see you awake at last. I'm Mr Gilbert Russell, but feel free to call me Gil – everyone does." He chuckled. "I was your surgeon. I know it is a little late but I have unfortunately been called to leave for a couple of days, so I'd just like to examine you again before I go, if that is all right."

Constance sighed inwardly. _Well, I am __**hardly**__ in a position to object! _

* * *

Mildred finished her small piece of cheesecake. Feeling rather uncomfortably full, she took a slow breath and stood up.

"I'm just going to have a bit of fresh air, I think. If that's okay, Miss Cackle."

"Are you all right, Mildred?" Amelia said, a little worried.

"I'm fine. Too full, but fine." She smiled.

"I'll see you later with Constance, then," Amelia replied, knowing she would undoubtedly end up back with her before long.

Mildred giggled as Herbert casually pushed the remaining cheesecake plate towards Amelia while looking upwards and sipping his coffee.

Amelia laughed. "Oh, you know me too well."

* * *

It was now 6.15 p.m. according to the clock above the entrance doors to the hospital. Mildred made her way outside, stepping into the early evening air which was gradually turning chilled. The sunlight was once again hiding behind the clouds, but the birds were still singing over in the nearby park.

She glanced at the sheltered seating area beside the sliding entrance doors before walking over and sitting herself down. There were a few patients around, mostly having cigarettes. She giggled at the sight of one little old man who was smoking two at once. He winked at her.

"Gotta get 'em in while I can, lassy," he wheezed, laughing.

Mildred smiled, leaning back on the bench, her mind contemplating what was to come.


	20. Chapter 20

**'****Teeny-Weenie' *smiles* Author's Note **

Awww, come on – you know I love my notes! :D Quickie though, just to let you know anyone not signed up to FF can now leave a review if you so wish. I hadn't realised the ability for anonymous reviews was disabled! *slaps hand to forehead and thanks the friend who pointed it out* It is, however, now fully enabled! :)

As always, THANK YOU to those reading and reviewing. I simply cannot stress **enough** the gratitude I have for you all!

Until next time, as – let's face it *grins* – there **will **be more of them …

NCD :)

* * *

**UPDATED: 11TH JULY 2009**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. VIOLENCE INVOLVED. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 20**

* * *

Constance sighed and blinked her eyes as her doctor and surgeon left her room. She had no cause to complain – they had succeeded in keeping her alive, despite how much she detested her body being subjected to so much unwanted attention day in, day out. Not to mention the indignity of not even being able to attend the bathroom by herself.

She tried to move her body a little. She could flex her stocking-covered toes. _That's a start, _she thought. Could she lift her left hand? _Yes, a few inches now – definite improvement. _As she lifted her head slightly, without warning, a sudden surge of wooziness hit her. Struggling to stay awake, Constance let out a small gasp as a sharp pain seared through her head. Her lead-heavy eyelids seemed to be closing of their own accord. Turning almost completely still, she took a deep breath and gave back a smooth exhalation as once again she began to drift …

_**Constance was eleven. She looked around her bedroom, barely ten square feet in size. She could smell the damp seeping through the walls, and see the cracks in the dirty, peeling plaster widening with time.**_

_**She was sitting on her wrought-iron bed. The old, badly stained mattress was covered by a thin, worn, greying sheet, upon which was a moth-eaten burgundy blanket and single flat pillow. Beside the right of the bed stood a small wooden table, plain in design with two undersized drawers. Lying on the top of the table at the front was a gold-plated horsehair brush – her mother's. And beside that was a single black-and-white photograph. She hastily picked them up and hid them back beneath a loose floorboard under her bed. Out of slight … out of reach …**_

_**The small black candle lantern placed towards the back of the tabletop was lit, the wax and wick almost completely extinguished. As she glanced at the pile of books on the cold wooden floor of her bedroom, her heartbeat stepped up a pace as she sensed, rather than heard, a sound. Looking through the tiny, draughty window, situated almost directly behind her bed, Constance saw a familiar sight – a sight which filled her with horror.**_

_**"Constance, come down."**_

_**Constance shuddered as the gravely voice of her Aunt Henbane echoed up through the cottage. She obeyed, leaving the confines of her chilly, darkening room.**_

_**"She's still growing taller, I see – you feeding her too much, Henny?" Hecketty walked into the cottage, placing her broomstick by the door. She surveyed her niece, oblivious to her emaciated appearance. Constance's dark eyes were sunken and her skin dull and sallow. She was wearing her usual ragged black dress, one of three identical black dresses. Hecketty paid no attention to Constance's badly bruised left cheekbone, nor the fact her niece seemed to be swaying slightly, paling in the remaining daylight and gripping the unstable banister for support.**_

_**"I hear you've developed your Materialisation power, dear," Hecketty added. Her voice was eager. Excited. And ruthless.**_

_**Hecketty took Constance by the wrist, pulling her forcibly into the front living room, following Henbane. Hecketty pushed Constance towards her sister. Henbane caught her and clamped her fingers around her niece's shoulders as Hecketty shut the door and locked it squeakily with a rusted key. The fire was burning brightly in grate; the wooden kindling topped with lumps of coal seemed be provoking a choking sensation to develop within the atmosphere. It overwhelmed Constance's heightened senses. Whether it was because of the mood of the room or fear, or both, Constance knew her present weakness would mean her chances of fighting back would prove futile. Spotting the awaiting articles on the walnut table by the window, Constance drew a deep breath, determined not to show them how petrified she was as pure terror flowed within her body.**_

_**Henbane picked up a small glass phial from the table. Her eyes were filled with malevolence, and face identical to Hecketty's: slightly lined, dry, prematurely ageing skin; pale pinched cheeks, obtrusively bent noses, scraped back lightly greying hair and increasingly rotten teeth. Both wearing the same plain black dresses, the prim laced collars fastened with matching brooches. Both smiling with malice. Both advancing on Constance ...**_

_**Constance began to shake … Hecketty grabbed her by the neck and pinned her against the back of the door. Despite frantically trying to keep her mouth closed, Constance felt the vile black liquid penetrate past her lips, mixed in with the taste of her own blood from the glass cracking and slicing her gum. Henbane pinched Constance's nose and pushed upwards under her jaw, leaving her no choice but to swallow. Crying out, Constance fell to the floor as instant and relentless pain burned throughout her limbs. She began to retch as her body progressively produced a mass mutilation of large blisters all over her skin. Trembling uncontrollably, she crawled towards the wall, clutching onto a bookcase shelf. Her body was dragged back. Constance screamed, the pitch so high it was almost capable of shattering glass, as Henbane pulled out a sharp knife and cut her dress. Her material was ripped violently, exposing her back, chest and arms. Hecketty trapped Constance's left arm on the ground, taking another thinly bladed knife. She plunged it deep to her skin above her elbow. Lifting Constance's arm, Hecketty released the substance secreted within the eruptions into a funnelled conical phial, placed ready by her sister. Henbane did the same with Constance's right arm. They each took a filed, sharpened spoon and started on Constance's back, lower neck, chest and legs: cutting painfully slowly with the blades, then forcefully digging and scooping out the contents within the swellings, collecting the syrupy white liquid. **_

_**Very soon, Constance stopped struggling. Very soon, she stopped emitting noise. Unable to fight. Unable to scream any more. Unable to make a sound. **_

_**After what seemed like an eternity, two more phials were forced into her throat: one filled with black fluid and one with fluorescent white.**_

_**Constance awoke some twenty hours later in torturous agony, her body bandaged with iodine-soaked rags created from white ripped sheets.**_

_**The agony lasted for a further nine days. **_

_**Agony with no reprieve. Agony without her magic to ease it …**_

* * *

"Shhh … Constance … wake up, wake up, you're all right," Herbert said gently.

Mildred's frightened face was leaning over Constance at her right, gripping her right hand. She felt sick to the stomach as the unsettling noises from the monitor were sounding loudly within the room, blaring beneath the automatic bright lights.

Beside Mildred was one nurse, having entered only seconds ago, watching the monitor's screen. The door then flew open as another nurse came bounding into the room, followed by two doctors.

Herbert was at already at Constance's left, reaching for his stethoscope. "Mil, make sure you keep a tight hold of her hand – we don't want the A-line dislodging."

Herbert, Mildred and Amelia had only been back in Constance's room for a short while. Her heartbeat and blood pressure had been slightly elevated in their relative speed and height when they had walked in. The nurses had noted it on their observations a few moments before, and had spoken to Herbert as the three approached in the corridor. Herbert had doubled-checked and stated it was likely nothing to worry over, telling the staff there was no immediate need to bother the other doctors unnecessarily, as Herbert knew they had enough on with three new critical admissions that evening. Constance had apparently been fast asleep until less than half a minute ago when she had started to tremble before beginning to shake increasingly violently. Both her heat rate and blood pressure had then abruptly shot up in intensity as Constance began to gasp for air – visibly asleep, yet obviously extremely agitated and desperately trying to come out of her nightmare.

"Her heartbeat is racing again – what in the **hell** is she dreaming about?" Herbert exclaimed as the other staff surrounded the bed.

Amelia placed herself in the corner of the far wall, out of the way, watching silently and wishing she had not had the last of the cheesecake. One doctor picked up Constance's chart as the nurses were observing the screen. Suddenly jolting the room's occupants, the other doctor's pager went off loudly out of the blue, adding to the din in the air.

"I've got to go. Herbert, can –?"

"Go on, Adam – we've got this," Herbert replied, inserting the hearing parts of his instrument into his ears. He placed the drum just under Constance's hospital gown and listened intently. Constance shuddered, gasping raggedly as she tried to take a deep breath, her heart still pounding in fear.

"Constance, settle down … you're safe," Herbert continued. He frowned, his brows knitting in concern. "I think we ought to keep a closer eye on this. If she's having memory regressions it could well be what's causing a few problems with her heart rhythm."

Mildred was stroking Constance's forehead softly, her fingers securely clasping her teacher's quivering hand.

Constance had finally opened her eyes and was staring up at Mildred – yet it was like she was seeing straight through her. Her eyes unfocused and unblinking, she was breathing extremely rapidly with a look of intense panic on her face.

"How are her sats doing?" Herbert addressed one of the nurses.

"A bit … odd. Her oxygen level is actually decreasing."

Herbert frowned again. He took Constance's left arm, holding her hand with his left, and rubbed her forearm lightly to try and capture her attention. "Constance, **look at me**. CONSTANCE! I need you to take nice, slow, deep breaths. I know you're scared. **You are all right **but you are having a panic attack and I need you to **calm down**," Herbert stressed firmly but kindly, meeting her gaze. As Herbert briefly averted his eyes to the monitor's screen, Constance unexpectedly went fully limp, her body appearing lifeless as her eyes closed and she released a final audible respiration before continuing to draw almost silent breaths.

"Oh! Oh, my … Constance?" Amelia jumped forwards from the wall, putting her hands to her mouth, somewhat disturbed by the current state of her deputy.

"It's okay, Amelia – don't be alarmed. I think she's passed out," Herbert said reassuringly.

The other doctor's pager bleeped.

"Go on," Herbert nodded, muttering under his breath and willing to bet a couple of the junior doctors had got themselves stuck again and in need of additional help from the already snowed-under registrars. "Probably better this way. Her breathing will return to normal much quicker now she's fainted, rather than her continuing to hyperventilate."

Herbert re-listened to Constance's heart and breathing, then looked under her eyelids with his small torch, during which the nurses made several notes on her chart and checked that her oxygen tubing, lines, drips, leads, catheter and connections were all intact. Amelia walked a little nearer towards the bed, staring at her virtually motionless deputy.

Herbert walked around the bed, observing the screen. "Her BP has settled now." He smiled, listening to her stabilised audible heartbeat.

Amelia looked at Mildred. Mildred continued to stroke Constance's brow, still holding her now unmoving hand.

"I presume you are stopping tonight, Amelia?" Herbert addressed her as she approached the bedside.

"Yes, I think so, Herbert. Oh, if that is convenient – you must be fed up of us."

"Not in the slightest, I rather appreciate the company. I've still got a few bits to do, and I also want to see Hudson before he goes off shift, so I'll hop off now and get sorted. Don't worry, she'll be all right. People sometimes faint in a panic attack."

He stood and spoke to both nurses for a minute as Mildred carefully released Constance's hand and walked around the bed, taking a carrier bag from the floor and busying herself stocking the bedside locker with the various bottled drinks, fruit and general snacks Herbert had brought in earlier for her, after informing her she had to start eating more during the day – and that meant more than just breakfast and half a sandwich.

For the past several days, Herbert had brought Mildred lunch each day and attempted to get at least another sandwich or pasty down her in the evenings, as well as Amelia if she was not at the school. Both Mildred and Amelia had been unable to eat much of anything throughout the week. On Thursday, all three had survived on odd – and ultimately wasted – cups of tea or coffee from the visitor's lounge vending machine. None of them were able to tolerate anything further that day.

Mildred picked up one packet and did a double take. Given Herbert's status, she didn't think it likely he would advocate chocolate-coated strawberry flavour bonbons on a regular basis.

Amelia quietly brought over a chair and placed it by Constance's right, scraping herself closer to the bed as Herbert left. She delicately took Constance's hand, staring at her arm and neck.

"What on **earth** did they **do **to her?" she whispered to Mildred, her voice slightly choked for the second time that evening.

Both nurses glanced wordlessly at each other as they waited as requested for their patient to come round before taking some of her A-line blood for testing.

As Constance began to stir, Mildred immediately turned and picked up her left hand, catching Amelia's eyes. But she did not speak.

* * *

Imogen looked up. Davina had just entered the staffroom, Algernon following.

"Are they all in b – b – bed?" Imogen yawned, glancing at the grandfather clock: 10.05 p.m. _At last – another day over,_ she thought. "Oh … sor – ry," she yawned again, rubbing her eyes and running her hand back through her short blonde locks.

"Yes … although I have a feeling a certain three will not stop there." Davina sighed, dropping into the flowery armchair.

"Did Ethel eat any supper?" Imogen continued as Algernon made his way over to the urn and pottered about looking for the largest cup he could find, before proceeding to spoon in four heaped servings of coffee granules.

"Surely you're not going back **again **tonight, Algernon?" Davina said, raising her eyebrows. "Erm … sorry, Imogen … supper … yes … a little, I think. I know it was hugely traumatic for them to witness, but she seems to be taking it very badly. She's always been such a self-assured girl. It's quite unnerving to see her so unglued," she mused, chewing her lips in a fretful fashion.

"Hmm," Imogen agreed, ignoring the rather irritating noise of gulped slurping now hitting her ears as Algernon quickly swallowed his black coffee in one. "Do you think we should talk to her about it?"

"At present I'd say no. I think, for now, we should let Enid and Maud see if they can get to the bottom of it. Enid pulled me to the side earlier saying she was concerned. She said Ethel had sincerely apologised for all the trouble she's caused with them over the years," Davina answered.

"Now **that** is worrying," Imogen concluded.

"Right, I'm off. See you in the morning, ladies." Algernon smiled as he left the room. About five seconds later, he reopened the door, walked over and picked up his staff from its resting place against the side of the fireplace, then left again, grunting under his breath.

"He is really going to end up flat on his back, you know." Imogen sighed, flopping into the patterned armchair opposite Davina and brushing biscuit crumbs off the material covering.

"At least Phyllis is improving a bit now … Not sure if her telling Egbert and Algernon they were both pains in the backside gave them much enthusiasm to continue helping, though."

"Well, be fair, Davina – how would you feel about having the pair of them constantly put **you** to bed for a week?"

Davina slowly allowed a dreamy smile to curl on her lips.

Imogen cracked out laughing.

* * *

Enid finally slipped into her cold bed, hoping it would not be long before her body's heat started to warm the covers over her. She had been pacing her room again. Every night since the night of the competition she had paced her room before eventually ending up with the others. She lay thinking about Mildred. She had taken her over the latter fortnight of the holidays. Mildred had been fairly light-hearted, though Enid could see the sadness in her face when Mildred thought no one was looking. She wondered what Miss Hardbroom could have possibly said to her for her to react the way she did. Not to mention HB's reaction to Mildred.

_But then again … _she thought, _HB wasn't exactly in a position at the time to protest about anything. _The hand-holding alone – had it been less serious circumstances – would have been practically a miracle, considering it was someone who was normally an ice queen. Yet regardless of what had happened between Miss Hardbroom and Mildred, she and the others were all still very troubled, too. They may not have always liked HB's methods, but they sure as hell never wanted to see her hurt in any way. Enid threw back her sheet and blankets and stood up, taking her dressing gown and making her way to Maud's room, not even bothering to put her slippers on.

* * *

Constance opened her eyes. Mildred had her left hand wrapped around Constance's left, her face curled into her neck against her pillow and blanket covering her legs as she slept in her chair. Constance turned her head to the right. Amelia was snoring softly with her head bowed to her chest. Constance glanced upwards at the clock: her exceedingly acute vision could clearly see the second hand approaching the time about to commence midnight, despite the dimness of the room.

The door opened softly as two night nurses entered. Seeing Constance was awake, they smiled and talked to her quietly as they performed their once again half-hourly observations, along with any other tasks and treatments required through the night.

Constance fidgeted a little, trying to reposition herself as Mildred stirred briefly and released her hand.

"Are you uncomfortable, sweetheart?" one of the nurses addressed her.

Constance nodded.

The pair carefully positioned themselves at either side of her at the top end of the bed and skilfully lifted her a little, re-fluffing her pillows before laying her back down. Constance could not help but flinch as her aching body was placed back.

"Is it painful on your spine, honey?"

Constance nodded again.

"Think we better check?" one said.

"Yep," the other nodded. Between them, they adeptly turned Constance partially onto her right-hand side right so the nurse behind her could look beneath her gown to check for any skin soreness. She switched on the extended lamp beside the bed coming from the wall and unfastened Constance's gown at the tip of her left shoulder, as well as opening the slit down the side, pulling the material's gaps just enough to view her upper and lower skin on her back, using the narrow yet bright light of the lamp.

"No, nothing to see. But you are so very thin, honey – it is bound to be painful."

Refastening the material, they tenderly turned her once more, laying her against the pillows. The nurse who had held her went over to write a few more notes on her chart, leaving the other one absent-mindedly stroking Constance's hand.

"We'll have a word with one of the docs and see what we can do to make you more comfortable," the nurse said, reaching to switch off the lamp. "We'll make sure yo—" She stopped short: Constance's eyes were closed, their patient sleeping so deeply it was like she had never been awake. The nurse smiled and put her left hand back in Mildred's for her, tucking her up neatly again. The staff had a final check around before removing their gloves, rewashing their hands and silently leaving the room …

_**Thirteen-year-old Constance was kneeling in the kitchen. She could hear the harsh, thunderous rain still pelting on the windows. She shuddered as she sensed Henbane approach her. Henbane took Constance by the scruff of her neck and abruptly dragged her upright before holding her down over the cold, heavily splintered kitchen table. Trembling, Constance forced her fist in her mouth as her bleeding back was roughly rubbed with a cloth saturated with iodine. Her black dress was thrown back to her by Hecketty from the corner of the room. She put it on, trying not to cry as the material scratched her raw, stinging gashes.**_

_**"Well, CLEAR IT UP!" Henbane screamed.**_

_**"And when you're through you can go to bed with NO supper. How DARE you come back with damp firewood!" Hecketty shrieked. Henbane and her sister strode from the kitchen, the latter trailing mud across the floor from her filth-encrusted shoes, flicking her cigarette into a bucket sitting on the flagstone floor.**_

_**Constance shakily took the water-filled bucket and scrubbing brush placed beside the table and began to clean the bloodied floor with the icy liquid. She closed her eyes, wincing in pain as she heard the sound of a razor-sharp whip being replaced on the hook where it hung in the back room, adjacent to the kitchen. **_

_**Constance stiffened as she heard the pieces of leather fly through the air towards her; she drew and held her breath a split second before Hecketty's heeled footwear hit her squarely in the back.**_

_**"And make sure they shine this time, else there will be no breakfast, either!"**_

_**As Henbane and Hecketty took themselves into the living room to enjoy their evening meal, a tear leaked down Constance's face as she cleared up the remains of her shorn hair …**_

* * *

"Shhh … Calm down, you're okay … shhh …" Mildred said softly, stroking Constance's forehead again and hoping to settle her in order to avoid a repeat occurrence of the previous evening.

Constance opened her eyes briefly, turning her head to the side.

"Is she all right?" one of the nurses from earlier asked, peeking her head around the door, having been alerted by the monitor sounding Constance's heart's slightly increased rate.

"Think so," Mildred whispered.

"We will be in in a minute or so, honey."

Mildred seated herself back down, keeping a tight hold of Constance's hand. Amelia continued to snore …

_**Constance was fifteen. Her birthday. Henbane was standing in front of her niece. Constance was deep in her work. Piles and piles of spells and potions books took up the bulk of the walnut table's surface, and she could feel the wintry draught from the window behind her back.**_

_**Henbane walked across the room, scraping her sharp nails against the mantelpiece. She turned back towards the door, her feet barely making a sound as she tread in a creeping fashion on the floorboards, their unkempt appearance broken only by a recently added old woven rug, found in the attic of the cottage. **_

_**Constance kept her head down, knowing it was wiser to never look up unless spoken to.**_

_**Henbane cleared her throat. "Lunch." There was no tone to her voice. No brightness. No care.**_

_**Constance stood up from the table, her re-growing hair swaying on her shoulders. She followed Henbane down the dark, chilly passageway from the front room, past the wooden staircase, to the kitchen. The floor was sticky beneath her worn black shoes. The room had a repugnant air about it, sickly and nauseating. Constance placed herself at the small, coarsely sanded pine table on the matching stiff pine chair. Looking up uneasily at the aged, battered cupboards, she spotted a phial of fluorescent white liquid, corked and lying on its side on the top of the work-surface directly in front of her. A small bowl of chicken soup and a tarnished spoon were placed ready on the table. She began to feel increasingly alarmed as she caught sight of Hecketty skulking just within the backdoor porch.**_

_**Henbane faced her niece. "EAT!"**_

_**Constance picked up her spoon and took a sip, struggling not to vomit as the acrid taste of a barely warm, week-old broth hit her tongue.**_

_**Constance took a small mouthful of her milk-less, black-looking tea. Within only a few seconds of swallowing, she drew a wheezy gasp for air, her eyes flying wildly around as she shook violently. She clutched her chest, the pain of trying to breathe too much to stand. She saw Hecketty fully emerging, watching her rapidly suffocate. Gripping the table with depleting strength, she tried in vain to take a full breath. Her chest seemed to be constricted with an invisible barrier, wrapping itself around her torso and crushing her lungs, forcing the air out from the inside. As the minutes passed, her vision became dim and blurry. She attempted to stand from her chair. Shutting her eyes instinctively, she plummeted to the floor. She continued to gasp, becoming increasingly dizzier. She vaguely felt her body being roughly pulled upright. As she began to lose consciousness, she was scarcely aware of her mouth being forced wide open, muffled voices dulling in her ears. And as she slipped further into darkness, a substance was poured through a funnelled tube deep down into her throat …**_

* * *

"Shhh … You're okay, it's **okay** … shhh … you're OKAY, IT'S OKAY!"

Constance was shaking from head to toe, locked within her horror-filled sleep.

The door flew open as two nursing staff came running into the room, followed by one of the night-time doctors. As before, the lights above flickered on automatically as the monitor sounded its emergency alarm.

"**Another **one?" the doctor exclaimed as the two nurses approached Constance's bed. Amelia stepped back to let them in, releasing Constance's right hand and taking her chair with her, keeping out of the way. One of the nurses stood beside the bed, taking her hand again to keep it still. The other was watching the screen. Mildred did not move.

Constance gradually opened her eyes, Mildred's teary face coming into focus. Amelia was equally as distressed, dabbing her eyes with her back turned so Constance did not see her reaction. Constance was shaking severely, her breathing quick and heartbeat racing.

Mildred unclenched Constance's hand as the doctor stepped into Mildred's place, indicating he wanted to listen to her heart and breathing.

Mildred walked into the bathroom and dampened a flannel. She returned and waited patiently for the doctor to finish his examination.

Constance took a few steadying breaths as the doctor assessed her condition, the effects of another panic attack waning as she awoke more fully.

"Her BP is up a bit, she seems to be calming a little, though," the doctor said, glancing at the monitor's screen. He walked around the bed to take a closer look, before taking her chart from the trolley at the end of her bed and writing several notes as the staff checked over Constance's various tubing and connections.

"She'll be okay – I'm not going anywhere," Mildred told him, putting herself back beside the bed, taking and gripping Constance's hand, trying to soothe her teacher's restless state. She remained standing, delicately patting Constance forehead and cheeks with the flannel.

"Would you like anything to help you sleep a little easier, Constance?" the doctor addressed her kindly. He had to admit, it was a strange question to ask a patient who was sleeping almost continually. That said, it was certainly not restful sleep of late.

Constance shook her head.

The doctor nodded and beckoned the staff to follow him from the room. The nurses smiled and said they would be back again shortly, dimming the lights as they left.

Constance looked up at Mildred, her eyes glazed with tears.

Mildred took a tissue from her pocket and softly wiped a single droplet from Constance's left cheek. Taking the wet flannel from the bed, she leaned across and put it on her chair's arm, pulling the chair nearer to the bed and sitting back down, at no time releasing Constance's trembling hand.

Amelia looked across at Mildred, her face deeply worried as she lifted her chair back over and reseated herself beside the bed.

Constance closed her eyes. Amelia instinctively stretched to take Constance's right hand but halted mid-reach: Constance's fingers were forcefully clutching the blanket. Amelia swallowed the lump in her throat, hesitating slightly, before carrying on regardless and gently prising her deputy's taught digits from the bedclothes. And upon meeting no resistance from Constance, began caressing her hand caringly, being careful, as always, to avoid disturbing the pulse ox and A-line set-up.

The pair watched over Constance for a few minutes, noticing her breathing steadily change to a slow, peaceful respiration. Mildred then looked at the clock, signalling nearly three in the morning. Meeting Amelia's gaze, the pair looked back to Constance, now sleeping soundly once again as the staff re-entered the room.


	21. Chapter 21

**'Iddy Biddy' Author's Note**

Hi, all!

*NCD climbs on seven Yellow Pages to match the height of HB and waves*

So,** so** many apologies for the delay …

(I know – **again**!)

Life has been unrelentingly chaotic, with a great number of problems along the way, these past few weeks, but here it is at long last!

Hopefully not too long until the next – I know – I have said that before, too!

And again, a huge THANK YOU to those reading this and especially to those taking the time to review for me!

I must also mention **sapphmonster ***shakes hands and offers a slice of triple chocolate fudge cake* who so kindly reviewed for me, but as I am unable to reply in order to say thank you via the site (as I like to thank each and every review), please consider this yours! I hope you shall continue to R+R, and many thanks indeed for your first review! :)

So until the next little note …

*looks up innocently*

NCD :)

* * *

**UPDATED: 24TH AUGUST 2009**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. VIOLENCE INVOLVED. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 21**

* * *

Maud gazed bleary-eyed out of the open shutters of her bedroom window. Blinking a few times, she stifled a yawn and cleared her throat. Her eyes felt dry and itchy as she rubbed them. Shattered, yet wide awake, she lowered her glasses and turned to look at the extra occupants currently inhabiting her room.

Enid met Maud's line of sight as the pair both glanced at each other, and then to the third body occupying the cramped space with them.

"Is she asleep?"

"Think so," Enid whispered back, sitting up a little and leaning over to look at Ethel lying beside her.

Maud shivered as the nippy wind suddenly blew a draughty breeze against her back. Turning again, she closed the shutters and flicked her fingers, lighting the candle lantern hanging on the wall.

Ethel was breathing softly through her partly open mouth. She sniffed and coughed in her sleep. The pair could hear how her nose remained blocked, the tiny vessels inside swollen from irritation. Even now, her pale face was still marked by the dried streaks of recent tears.

Maud and Enid had been quietly chatting until nearly three o'clock when Maud's door had creaked open. A shaking and crying Ethel had entered, her face frozen in fear and arms clutching Nightstar to her like a teddy bear. Nearly two hours later, she had finally fallen asleep, but not before another two washes of salt-filled droplets had flowed from her, coupled with incoherent ramblings about that fateful night, now a little over a week ago.

"Do you think … should we maybe be asking why she's so … distraught?" Enid said quietly.

"I really don't know. Millie wasn't exactly forthcoming after her family died. I thought it best to wait until she opened up herself," Maud replied, shrugging.

Ethel suddenly shot up and screamed out, fighting with clawed hands against the air. They both grabbed her as she shook in terror, watching as four terrified cats scarpered towards the door in a blur of black and grey. Enid quickly opened it before they caused any more damage to the wood. They fled into the corridor. She turned to look back at Ethel.

Ethel was curled up on her side. Now fully awake, she was sobbing softly and clinging to the pillow.

Maud and Enid glanced at each other, neither knowing what to say. Maud raised her eyebrows at Enid and shrugged, putting her hand on Ethel's shoulder and rubbing gently, trying to soothe her.

Enid stepped out into the corridor, wanting to make sure no one else had been disturbed by Ethel's nightmare – and especially not the teachers: one of Miss Bat's concoctions was the last thing Ethel needed right now.

The corridor was silent. Eerily silent, in fact.

Enid turned to go back into Maud's room when a cold trickle ran down her spine, reminiscent of an icicle being drawn across her skin. She shook her head, unable to stop herself shuddering automatically. She felt goosebumps rising on her arms as she listened, turning her head slowly like an animal, straining to hear whatever was within the darkness.

_You're just letting your imagination get the better of you! _she snapped firmly to herself. She went back inside the room and shut the door behind her.

Before very long, Ethel had cried herself to sleep once more.

Enid and Maud continued to sit and talk between themselves in hushed voices until dawn began to break. As the sun rose, they had finally closed their eyes, unable to fight against the heaviness of their eyelids.

The morning sunlight filtered into the room, illuminating the shadowed walls with amber rays which beamed through the window, patterning the girls' figures with golden streams as they slept.

When Maud awoke to find her shutters open, she did not remember she had closed them.

When Enid went for a wash, she no longer felt unnerved, for the corridor was like it always was: busy and bustling with girls carrying their black towels and striped wash-bags.

When Ethel went back to her room and picked up her photo from beneath her pillow, she wondered if she'd ever be able to sleep soundly again.

And when the three thought back to that night, they would not remember the noises gradually fading into the trees just as the sun came upon the horizon, nor would they think back to their conversations, and what, if someone had been listening, they would have revealed to them.

* * *

Mildred was dozing lightly, fidgeting every now and then in her chair. The slightest sound would have woken her. She was waiting for it. Expecting it.

Throughout the night, if Constance turned her head, or coughed, or even drew a loud breath, Mildred had sensed it and opened her eyes.

Mildred's night had been too disrupted for her to sleep with any confidence. She was afraid to sleep too deeply, not that she could really settle. Her mind was busy. Busy thinking. Thinking of the past. Thinking of the present. And thinking of the future.

For the most part, she had simply leaned back in her chair and watched Constance sleep, or else stood for a few minutes at a time and stroked Constance's forehead when she became restless. But all the while, Mildred caressed her hand, making sure she maintained contact. Just sitting, watching, and waiting for another nightmare to strike.

Mildred momentarily opened her eyes and glanced lazily at the clock. It was nearly 7.25 a.m. The blinds of the room were closed, but the sun was bright behind them, pushing the shafts of light towards the whiteness of the material, making them almost painful to focus on. She briefly looked at Constance. Her eyes were shut still and Amelia had gone.

_She'll be back at Herbert's, I guess, _Mildred thought, closing her own eyes again.

The door opened without a sound as Ruth entered with her heavily laden trolley of cleansing apparatus – one of the regular members of the ICU cleaning team.

She smiled at Mildred as Mildred reopened her eyes, mouthing hello.

Ruth walked into the bathroom and shut the door softly. Mildred could hear her at work, scrubbing away at the invisible germs. She emerged several minutes later, checked the rest of the room was still spotless and crept out.

Mildred had nodded off …

_**Mildred was sitting on her bed, curled upright, with her head resting on her bent knees. She heard a gentle tapping on her door, followed by the unusually quiet voice of her form mistress asking for permission to enter.**_

_**Mildred replied in the positive and straightened up, sweeping her dangling fringe behind her ears and smoothing the creases on her nightgown in a useless attempt to make herself more presentable. Her door opened, revealing the dark, willowy figure of her teacher. Mildred watched as her form mistress entered her room and locked the door behind her with a small twitch of her fingers. Constance then turned her hand towards the hanging candle lantern on the wall and twitched her fingers once more. The small wick ignited, lighting up the dusky room. **_

_**Constance closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds as Mildred watched her startled bats fly towards the window, obviously unamused by the sudden interruption as they fled through the half-open shutters.**_

_**"Mildred, how are you feeling?"**_

_**"Um … okay, I think. My chest is still a little tender. Miss … I … I'm sorry about the potion. I just … I didn't want to let the school down …"**_

_**Mildred felt prickling heat building behind her eyes. Unable to stop them, within a few seconds warm droplets were flowing down her face. **_

_**Constance shifted slightly in her pose and pulled a tissue from her sleeve. Mildred saw the outstretched hand offering her a neatly folded white paper handkerchief. She took it from her, moving her legs and curling them beside her as her form mistress placed herself delicately on her bed.**_

_**"Mildred, I need to ask you a question. What did you drop on my head in your second year here?"**_

_**Mildred met her gaze, feeling somewhat puzzled and awkward.**_

_**"I – er – a fire bucket."**_

_**Constance sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. **_

_**"Mildred …" Constance's voice was hesitant. She brought her vision directly to Mildred's eyeline. "What happened tonight … I think you realise the severity of it."**_

_**Mildred looked down and sniffed, wiping her eyes with her tissue.**_

_**"Did you notice anything strange about Fenella Feverfew's behaviour this evening?" **_

_**"Well, now you mention it," she said, lifting her head, "she was very keen on making sure I took the potion."**_

_**"I see. Mildred, I have something extremely important to tell … and … to ask you and you have to listen to me very carefully ..."**_

_**Mildred stared into Constance's deep, dark eyes.**_

_**"I believe there is something occurring … and … I'm not entirely sure what. But if it is what I think, then I am going to need your help …" **_

_**Constance wiggled her fingers: a fairly small, yet thick, pinkish-brown book and long white envelope appeared on Mildred's bed. As the items materialised, Constance visibly drew a sharp breath. **_

_**Mildred watched her in concern; it was almost as if the mere act of performing magic was pulling her strength.**_

_**Constance cleared her throat and straightened her spine – not that she could physically make it any straighter.**_

_**"I first need you to pick up and open this book, Mildred. Open it to the blank pages at the back."**_

_**"Um … the back?" **_

_**"From your point of view it will be the front, so to speak," Constance added, noting Mildred's obvious confusion as she took the book.  
**_

_**The instant her fingertips touched the material the book began to emit a red hue. Mildred slowly pulled the red ribbon binding the pages, resting the book on her legs. She opened and gradually flattened it out to the blank pages at the back. As her fingers traced over the rapidly appearing scarlet italicised incantations, her room filled with a redness so vivid it took on the appearance of a photo development studio.**_

_**Constance looked at her, her face indicating a mixture of relief and extreme fear.**_

_**"Mildred … this envelope is from your grandmother. It is time you read the contents …"**_

* * *

Mildred shot up from her chair, throwing her blanket off in the process.

Constance was awake. She surveyed her with a questioning look.

"Dream," Mildred explained, leaning back again and taking a couple of deep breaths.

Constance nodded.

Mildred looked at the time. It was just coming up to eight o'clock.

"I think I will go and have a shower, they will be in shortly to get you sorted."

"O-o-okay."

Mildred stared at Constance in amazement, standing up from her chair and leaning over.

"Say that again?"

"O-kay," Constance whispered. Her voice was dry and soft. But audible. She smiled.

Mildred bent forwards and kissed her lightly on the forehead. She squeezed her hand and left the room, glancing back twice.

Constance lifted her left hand a few inches and twitched her fingers. The smallest of white sparks emitted from them. Minuscule. But there.

* * *

"**What** a way to spend a Sunday!" Enid muttered, adding a number of expletives under her breath. She had just joined Maud, Ethel, Drusilla, Ruby, Jadu and the other third-years.

Imogen approached the sulking group, swinging her whistle necklace around in her hand.

"Oh, come on, girls – the sun shining, the birds are singing – what better than a run around the assault course to get us all going!"

The girls' groaned response failed to impact upon the gym mistress's joyous mood.

"And don't forget your camouflage make-up!" Imogen added, handing around a small pot of black ointment.

Enid swore again under her breath. "So much for our lie-in!"

* * *

"Just a bit more. Please."

Constance sucked a little more water through the white concertinaed straw currently sitting gently in her mouth. Releasing the straw, she swallowed and closed her eyes, still able to feel the ghost of the breathing tube scratching her throat, despite the length of absence since it was removed.

Mildred put the plastic tumbler back down beside the frequently replaced jug of water on the locker. The nurses had provided extra water throughout the week for Mildred, whether she had wanted more to drink or not.

Constance had shaken her head quite firmly at the offer of some mango-and-kiwi juice from Mildred's little stash provided by Herbert, but had consented to at least try to have a little drink.

Mildred looked at the clock and sighed, fiddling around with Constance's blanket. It was almost two o'clock in the afternoon. She stifled a yawn, wondering if there would be a repeat of last night's events.

"Fancy a game of I-spy?"

Constance opened one eye and glanced at her, desperately trying not to smile.

Mildred giggled and sat back down in her chair. She drew herself closer with her legs, rested her elbows on the bed and put her head between her cupped hands.

"Miss Cackle will be back soon. She's bringing some more of my stuff. Herbert and Hudson have persuaded the clinical director to let me stay until you can come back with me."

Constance opened her other eye and turned her head fully to Mildred, a curl of a smirk at the side of her lips, and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that look – I'm not risking losing you again. I'm staying until you're flying on your broom standing up!"

Mildred took Constance's hand without waiting for either a reply or a protestation. Lifting her head as she squeezed, she saw that Constance had closed her eyes. Mildred waited for a minute or so. Constance did not reopen her eyes again. Mildred smiled, and then quietly picked up the weekend newspaper Herbert had brought her …

_**Constance was lying in her bed, thinking back to the day just past. Her memory was still unclear, muddied by flashes of an accident. Or incident. She didn't know which. She knew she had been there at least since that morning. **_

_**She remembered rising early. She remembered her walk by the lake. She remembered the swans flying above the skyline as the sun had brought the morning to life. **_

_**She remembered entering the kitchen with her wicker basket, filled with her floral pickings of the dawn.**_

_**She remembered the lightness seizing her, and the feeling of being as weightless as air.**_

_**She remembered the warm glow which had encompassed her body, filtering through every limb, every pore. **_

_**She remembered her Aunt Henbane's face as she had come upon her niece standing motionless like a statue, with her colouring translucent and ghostly, surrounded by white light and illuminated like the moon. **_

_**Constance didn't know how long she had remained in her stance. Minutes, maybe? Perhaps longer. She had felt the change beginning; felt her power manifesting against her captors. She had fought so hard to control it; fought against the encapsulating light which had caught each and every breath as she exhaled. Her eyes had been rendered slit-like, struggling to see through the intensity of the brightness. **_

_**She had sensed Henbane moving, but did not see what she was holding in her hands. Within a few seconds, she did not see anything any more. Her memory ended there. Her aunt's face was the last thing she saw before darkness descended upon her. And there, in her room, she had stayed, until her eyes opened again, only to be greeted by shadows.**_

_**It was a warm September night outside, but her room was cold. It was always cold. The temperature in summer was just about bearable. But in winter, the icicles formed inside the windowpane. The glass, so thin and weatherworn, would frost up from Constance's breaths – even if she was feet away. The only heat within the room came from her body; a body so often as cold as ice.**_

_**The room caught the sun, but the sun did not permeate the room. It was not possible. And not permitted. **_

_**It was late. Later than midnight. And Constance, now awake, would not likely sleep again before daybreak.**_

_**She never slept well, not unless forced by her body's weakness or exhaustion. She had to be desperate – or else provoked into a state of unconsciousness – to sleep with any ease. Like a wild rabbit, she slept only fitfully, never feeling safe enough to close her eyes for any length of time. **_

_**She froze as she sensed footsteps approaching her room. The door creaked open slowly, allowing a trickle of light from the landing oil lamp to seep into the darkness. **_

_**Constance shut her eyes. She could feel her heart thumping with increasing speed as Henbane neared the bed. She bent over her niece. Constance held her breath, determined not to move; determined to appear completely unresponsive. **_

_**Constance felt a minor tug as a pair of scissors cut a piece of her long, loose hair. Henbane turned to walk away but stopped. Turning back, she paused, then reached out and stroked her hand across Constance's left cheek, trailing down to her throat, softly feeling Constance's skin with her clawed nails. **_

_**Henbane could feel her niece's power maturing inside her, bubbling beneath the surface like a caged animal.**_

_**Constance continued to hold her breath, but knew she could not contain the suffocating pressure much longer.**_

_**Flicking her head sharply, Henbane withdrew her hand as a noise outside distracted her. She hurriedly left the room, closing the door silently behind her with a flick of her wrist.**_

_**Constance immediately exhaled and drew several replenishing breaths as she heard her aunt go back down the staircase. She sat up, her hand automatically brushing her face and throat as if to remove the traces of Henbane's contact. She turned to look out of the window, narrowing her eyes as she stared into the pitch-black darkness. **_

_**Henbane and Hecketty were huddled together outside. Their faces, for a moment unseen, were suddenly visible, the light exaggerating their sharp features in a haunting fashion.**_

_**Hecketty was mounting her broomstick. She took a small, dark box from Henbane's hands and seemingly muttered a series of words, causing it to vanish. Tucking her cloak around her, she rose into the air. Henbane glanced up to Constance's window a split second after her niece had withdrawn from view. Satisfied Constance wasn't there, Henbane made her way into the forest surrounding their cottage, followed by a large, heavy-looking floating wooden chest. **_

_**Constance moved back into position, watching silently as the remaining glimmer from Henbane's lamp carried into the trees …**_

* * *

"Shhh … you're okay, it's **okay** …" Mildred soothed, standing up.

A nurse popped her head around the door, having been in with her colleague only a few minutes earlier. She made her way over to the monitor.

Constance was trembling. Mildred leaned forwards and smoothed Constance's hair back from her forehead. Constance's eyelids flickered. She was still asleep. She moved her head back a little more into the pillow. Mildred reseated herself and continued to stroke her hand.

The nurse smiled as she watched and listened to the monitor's speed decreasing, writing a few notes on Constance's chart.

"I'll come back soon, honey," she whispered to Mildred.

Mildred smiled as the nurse left, taking her paper once again …

_**Constance silently entered the kitchen, walking virtually on her tiptoes. It was the dead of night, her aunts still gone from the cottage. The acid coating her empty stomach was burning under her ribcage with fervour. She opened the creaking pantry door. Placing her hand inside very carefully, lest she knock something over, she reached for the small milk jug. She took it out and sipped a refreshingly cold mouthful, then another, and then filled it back up to its half-full point with water from the limescale-coated tap. Replacing it, she crept back up the staircase and into her room, climbing into bed.**_

_**Some time later, Constance opened her eyes. Her surroundings were so dark that she could not distinguish light from any direction. As she attempted to sit up, her head bumped against a hard yet cool surface. She began to feel profound panic building inside as she examined the available space with her hands. She tried to move her legs; they lifted only a few inches, her knees hitting the barrier above. She pushed to the side, finding little give either way. She lifted her palms up above her, pressing as hard as she could. She took a breath – instantly aware how laborious it had become to breathe. Sweat now pouring profusely, she started to cry out in fright, feeling her way around. She began to scratch the surface covering her prostrate body, clawing with her nails, ripping against the splintered wood. As she gasped the remaining oxygen, she became aware of heinous laughter from outside of her enclosure. She screamed out again and again in terror as heavy, thick dizziness filled her head. Her lungs were being crushed; her body shaking severely. Soon it was unbearable. Within seconds she blacked out, unable to endure the tormenting strain any longer. **_

_**Henbane and Hecketty unbolted the un-oiled brass clasp of the coffin, lifting the lid open with a jarring screech. The pair gazed callously at their niece for a few seconds, as if looking at a very unpleasant sight. **_

_**Hecketty picked up Constance's limp wrist, making sure she was still alive before letting it drop carelessly. She smiled at her twin with delight. **_

_**"Don't think she'll try stealing food again, do you, Henny?" **_

* * *

"Shhh … I've got you, you're safe … shhh …"

Constance opened her eyes briefly, trembling badly. Mildred had her hand held firmly, stroking her forehead.

The same nurse from earlier peeked her head around the door, listening to the sequence of the noises. She walked in and over to Constance.

Constance re-shut her eyes.

"She's calming …" the nurse whispered, double-checking the electrodes, lines and pulse ox were all still attached properly. She then took the chart again, busying herself writing for a few minutes, recording Constance's heart rate, blood pressure and other observations.

Mildred smiled as Constance seemed to settle.

The nurse nodded, replacing the chart. "I'll be back in a little while, honey – those drips will need doing again in about twenty minutes," she said, leaving the room quietly …

_**"Constance, come here."**_

_**Constance swallowed, emerging as slowly as she could from her doorway. She crossed the landing and timidly descended the staircase.**_

_**Henbane's voice could carry throughout the modest residence from any room with the same embittered iciness of a person whose sole purpose in life was for their own spiteful pleasure and nothing more. **_

_**As Constance reached the bottom step, she could not help but freeze in horror upon recognising the similarly wicked sibling of Henbane laughing with relish.**_

_**"IN!" Henbane's voice was firm – an order, not to be disobeyed.**_

_**Constance walked steadily and calmly. She moved along the narrow passageway into the small room right adjacent to the kitchen. The room was completely bare. Damp, cracked walls surrounded the windowless space. A hard and ice-cold concrete floor lay beneath her feet. The single lit oil lamp hanging from a hook on the wall flickered as a gust of wind from the empty fireplace wrestled its way into the freezing room. Though dimly lit, Constance caught the sight of the shadowy equipment ready for use. She placed her eyes downwards, looking at the floor. Her long hair adequately covered her view, and she did not want to raise her head. She did not want to see their faces. She knew too well what was coming.**_

_**"SIT."**_

_**Constance sat on a hard wooden chair, its back a few feet away from the right side wall. She closed her eyes as they strapped her wrists to the arms with the worn, chilled leather belts. Hecketty twitched her fingers: Constance's legs became bound tightly together, each ankle additionally cuffed to the base of the chair.**_

_**Henbane and Hecketty stood back a step, facing her.**_

_**"Let's see if you can do better this time," Henbane sneered, mockingly. Her voice was soft, but it was not a softness of care; it was a softness to encourage fear; a softness that was going to enjoy every minute.**_

_**Constance took a deep breath, opening her eyes and staring once more at the floor. **_

_**Hecketty walked backwards a few paces, standing at the opposite side, her back against the bricked-up hole in the wall. **_

_**Henbane produced a small phial and approached Constance. **_

_**Constance did not resist. She knew it was futile. She swallowed the black liquid in one – its revolting taste never improved. She suppressed the nausea rising in her throat, taking another deep breath.**_

_**"Ready, Henny?" Hecketty asked, grinning. Her eyes were bright with glee and voice as giddy as a child at Christmas.**_

_**"Oh, I think so," Henbane replied, looking at her sister. She watched as Hecketty breathed in sharply and, following her gaze, turned her attention back to their niece. **_

_**Constance's entire body was emitting an unearthly glow. Though dark in colour, it pierced the room with light. Constance's eyes were closed and, other than her barely visible respiration, her body was completely motionless.**_

_**Hecketty placed her arms out in front of her. The room began to rebound the echo of magic crackling in her hands. She shot a bolt of brilliant blue light towards Constance. It stopped abruptly in mid-air. Static, it twisted and sizzled as the furious sparks of power were prevented from reaching their victim.**_

_**"I think we need to try two," Henbane hissed. She went and stood next to her sister.**_

_**In the exact replicated action of her twin, she conjured an identical bolt of power. Shooting rapidly out from her fingers, it also stopped dead beside the other. **_

_**They twins addressed one another, and then looked at Constance.**_

_**Constance's face was drained of colour. Sweat was beading from her forehead, dripping down her temples beside her closed eyes. The heavy concentration on her face was clear.**_

_**Henbane sniffed coldly. "Seems that she's developing Counteraction Senses after all," she said, obviously displeased. "Do you think we should try it tomorrow with the Intensifier?"**_

_**"Oh, I think it would be nice for her sweet sixteenth, don't you, Henny?"**_

_**The pair simultaneously flicked their wrists and both hovering bolts dispersed into thin air.**_

_**"How long did the previous potion last?" Henbane said quietly.**_

_**"Two days. She won't tolerate it much longer – she's getting too strong," Hecketty replied in a whisper.**_

_**Henbane walked over to Constance. She lifted Constance's now-bowed head upright, expecting her to compliantly open her eyes. A small inward jolt of concern struck Henbane as Constance made no attempt to respond. Henbane released her hold and Constance's head dropped forwards. Henbane lifted it again, pushing under her chin until Constance's neck was angled over the back of the chair.**_

_**Henbane slapped her cheek fairly harshly. Constance did not react.**_

_**Hecketty neared her sister. "What's she playing at?" she snarled, her temper escalating. She flicked her wrist, at once releasing her niece's bound body. Constance remained lifeless.**_

_**Henbane opened up one of her eyelids, jumping slightly with alarm. Constance was completely unconscious.**_

_**"This hasn't happened before …" The look on Henbane's face was troubled. For once, there was fear in her voice. But it was not for her niece; it was for their own selfish priorities. "How much azalea did you put in?"**_

_**"Only what we've always used!" Hecketty retorted defensively.**_

_**"Well, you've obviously done something wrong – look at her!" Henbane felt her niece's pulse. "You had better hope she comes out of this. We cannot allow all our careful planning to be wasted. Get her to her bed."**_

_**Hecketty glared at Constance. She raised her hands: a few tense seconds later, Constance vanished from the spot. The two sisters then disappeared with her upstairs.**_

_**Constance was lying flat in her bed, her arms limply placed above the blanket. Henbane and Hecketty stood beside her, igniting the candle lantern on the table as they scrutinised their niece.**_

_**Henbane put one hand on her hip, striking a thinking pose, inner panic now creeping across her expression. "If she's not come round by noon tomorrow we will have to do it now …" **_

_**"But … we can't – she's not ready yet!" **_

_**"Don't you think I know that?" Henbane snapped sharply. "What other choice is there? I warned you this could happen one day!"**_

_**Henbane looked under Constance's eyelids again, then lifted her bony wrist, feeling her pulse before letting it slump. "There is work to do. We must be prepared. It will do no good waiting here." She glanced up at her twin. "Either way, come tomorrow … we shall know." **_

_**Hecketty nodded, her lips pursed with unease. They left the room, their soft footsteps creaking against the floorboards.**_

_**An hour before dawn, Constance opened her eyes. Sitting up gingery, she steadied herself, knelt beside the bed and removed the chipped floorboard beneath. Reaching inside the void and searching with her long fingers, she removed a small phial of fluorescent white liquid, uncorked it and swallowed the contents in one mouthful. She felt the liquid filter through her body, completely eliminating the effects of their malicious torturing. Shakily, she stood and reseated herself on the bed.**_

_**They may have prevented her performing unauthorised magic; they may have suppressed her power weekly for years. But they couldn't stop her taking the required ingredients to cause the crucially needed reaction at exactly the right moment, or to remove the restraining substance from her body. And she would not be waiting until they came.**_

_**Sixteen-year-old Constance crept carefully down the staircase. Noiselessly, she took her Aunt Hecketty's broomstick from the corner of the hallway and opened the door. She couldn't risk using magic, as Henbane's alarms would trigger the second her fingers twitched. She walked out slowly into the bitterly cold early morning air. **_

_**It had been a chance she had to take; a way to create enough time to escape. Glancing at the snowy forest surrounding the cottage, she placed the broom before her. She gently tapped it, mentally giving it her orders. It hovered. She clutched her small knotted pillowcase tighter in her hand and climbed on. As she nervously rose into the air, she heard her Aunt Henbane's shrill, shrieking voice behind her. Despairingly, she tried to make the broom accelerate. Henbane's bolt of wielding power was pulling it down as she fought to fly higher. A striking blast of blue light hit Constance in the back. She struggled desperately, trying to force the broom to continue. Another bolt flew past her left ear, crackling in the air. She felt the next one hit her with venom. Intense pain surged within her body, shattering through her limbs like knives of electricity.**_

_**Seconds later, the broom flicked fully vertical. Constance was catapulted off, plunging straight to the ground beneath her …**_

* * *

"IT'S OKAY, IT'S OKAY – YOU'RE SAFE, IT'S OKAY!"

Mildred was practically pinning her form mistress to the bed. Although Constance was too weak to move with any real strength, Mildred was having all on to keep her upper body still.

Constance's heartbeat was racing, her breathing rapid and body shaking violently.

The monitor was sounding its full alert, the relentless din stabbing at full-pitch into the previously silent room. The bright lights had been prompted along with the emergency alarm, though it made little difference in the daytime.

Dr Roebuck came bolting into the room, followed by two nurses.

"Not **again**?" Dr Roebuck stepped into Mildred's place. Mildred went to the other side and grabbed Constance's other hand before either nurse had a chance.

Dr Roebuck began her assessment as Mildred continued talking to her teacher, trying to bring her out of her nightmare.

Very gradually, Constance opened her eyes, seeing only a blurry room. She blinked several times. The haze dispersed, revealing Mildred hovering over her on one side, and the red-haired doctor on the other. Constance blinked again, trying to listen to Mildred's voice. Her hearing, so usually acute, was fuzzy and muffled. And her head, though dizzy, felt heavy upon her neck.

Mildred watched as Constance's eyes closed again. "Miss …?" She looked at the doctor, concern on her face.

"It's all right – I don't think she is quite conscious yet, Mildred." Wrapping her stethoscope around her neck, Dr Roebuck nodded for one of the nurses to come and take her place. She walked over and took the chart from the other nurse, who had been writing notes while looking at the monitor's screen. She lifted her gaze to the monitor. "It looks to be slowing down a bit."

The bleeping was steadily beginning to decrease in speed and pitch as Constance's heart began to settle back into its natural beat.

Dr Roebuck beckoned Mildred to follow her into the corridor, leaving the nurses attending to Constance's trembling body.

The pair stood to the side as an occupied trolley was wheeled past them with a number of staff manoeuvring it.

"Mildred, have you any idea what she is dreaming about? I've never seen such a variant spike in a heart rhythm from something like this."

Mildred looked at her, noticing her full name for the first time on her name tag. "I er … she was treated very badly as a child."

Dr Roebuck's face softened. She folded her arms, keeping both hands palm-down on top, and pressed her lips together, as if she was thinking deeply.

Mildred turned her head, glancing towards the doors' windows. "I … I think she's remembering …"

Dr Roebuck frowned and looked across to Constance through the gap beneath the right-hand side blind.

Constance was now awake. She looked to be breathing deeply in a rhythmic fashion in an attempt to calm herself down.

The doctor noticed how Mildred's shoulders had hunched up. She placed her hand on Mildred's arm and gave a gentle squeeze, resisting the urge to embrace her for fear of it causing Mildred to become more distressed. She cleared her throat as Mildred wiped her eyes.

"I think if this happens once more we may have to give her a sedative. I know she has refused so far but we may have to insist. She's not getting sufficient enough restful sleep to aid her recovery." Dr Roebuck smiled kindly at Mildred. "I um … see you have spotted my name tag …"

Mildred couldn't help but smile back.

"Just call me Trudy, for short – if you would like to. The clinical director makes us have our full names on show," she looked around then leaned over, "and he is a bloody stickler for the rules."

Mildred nodded, laughing a little. The doctor handed her a tissue.

"Come on – chin up. Don't let her see how upset you are."

Both the doctor and Mildred re-entered the room. Trudy took another look at the chart, observing the monitor's screen for a moment, while the two nurses checked over the various pieces of equipment in the room and attached to Constance.

Mildred approached the bed. Constance was watching her, refusing to blink her hot, watery eyes.

Trudy nodded to the nurses, placing the chart back in its holder. She winked at Mildred, holding the door open. The three left the room softly, the nurses indicating they would be back again very shortly.

Despite herself, Mildred's face was still visibly anguished. She met Constance's eyes, moving her hand automatically towards hers as she seated herself close beside her teacher.

_What in the hell did they do to you …?_

Mildred may not have spoken the sentence aloud, but Constance heard every word.

She opened her left hand and took Mildred's, gripping her fingers tightly. As Constance closed her eyes, several droplets leaked down her face.


	22. Chapter 22

**It's time for an Author's Note! *listens for the cheering … or groaning as the case may be …* **

*NCD hands out vouchers for free chocolate-and-mint cookies, cocoa and miniature bottles of Please-Be-Really-Nice-To-NCD Potion*

I am so, so sorry for the (gigantic) delay! I have had an extremely testing two months what with one thing and another, but here I am, finally, with the next instalment!

Two things before I shut up and let you get on with it:

1) A great many thanks to **Lynsey **for your review! *waves and offers extra cookies* I cannot email, so please consider this my overwhelming gratitude. *refills cocoa mug* I hope you shall continue to enjoy it!

2) In this chapter there is a family tree. Due to **slight **formatting difficulties with the FF system *mutters* it looks a little odd. However, I have done my best with it, but any suggestions of how to improve its appearance and make it easier to understand, please feel free to email and let me know!

* * *

**UPDATED: 29TH OCTOBER 2009**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. VIOLENCE INVOLVED. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 22**

* * *

Amelia walked into the staffroom, opening the door and almost knocking Davina, who was directly behind it and humming away to herself, twirling her fingers around her greying, light-brown crimped hair and writing up her music sheets.

Amelia had been lucky enough to enter at this precise moment, as Davina was too busy chewing a piece of extremely sticky homemade toffee to continue her singing, which she had been doing for the last hour, and every now and then releasing an incredibly high-pitched series of notes. Fortunately, her humming was somewhat less offensive to Amelia's ears, especially as she had a mouthful.

"Well, I'm just about to set off back." Amelia eased herself with a sigh into the flowery armchair. "Is there anything else that requires my attention?" She leisurely picked off a piece of fluff from her black cardigan and folded her arms across her chest.

Davina shook her head, chewing faster and placing her fingers against her lips as she swallowed and cleared her throat.

"No, I … ahem … I don't think so, Amelia. Though … um … Imogen had a little problem with Enid earlier. It seems that she took climbing up ropes in the middle of the woods as an excuse to attach swing bases to them. Imogen wasn't exactly amused."

Amelia creased inwardly. _What a good idea, Enid!_

"How is Mildred doing?" Davina said as she popped another piece of toffee in her mouth, sitting herself opposite and offering the small white paper bag containing the sweets to Amelia.

"I think better. She's barely ever out of the room. Constance has certainly become very close to her and her to Constance. It's … almost as if they've 'adopted' one another. It's definitely not something I ever thought I'd see happen … and between those two, of all people." Amelia reached to take a piece of toffee, wondering what the little red bits in it were.

Davina surveyed Amelia. "You know," she began, still chewing slightly. "I often questioned how Constance ended up so … unfathomable. And … well, you saw the scars – what could have happened to her to make her so … closed off? It makes me wonder if Mildred has somehow broken her shell."

Amelia looked Davina straight in the eye, briefly considering elaborating on recent events, before deciding against it, and settling on, "You're not the only one."

At that moment, Imogen, dressed in a white tracksuit with blue-and-green striped edging, walked, or rather half-stomped, into the room. In her hands she had a pair of yellow-handled garden shears with frayed bits of brown material still caught between the blades.

Davina tried to keep her face straight and hurriedly shoved in another piece of toffee: Imogen had obviously been cutting the ropes.

"The girls are eating supper. Oh, and Mrs Tapioca has prepared some more cheese scones for later," Imogen informed them, flexing her fingers and switching the heavy cutters to her other hand.

The usual eating patterns had been somewhat disrupted in recent days, especially given the enthusiastic attempts by Fenella and Griselda's cookery lessons.

"How lovely." Amelia smiled, sitting up a little and making a mental note to stop by the kitchen. "It appears as though the girls have become rather used to eating a light snack before bed. We should perhaps rename supper 'dinner' and keep up what is turning into late supper after things are back to normal," she finished, catching sight of her smirking chanting teacher.

Davina swallowed rather too quickly and semi-choked a little on the sugary juice.

"A— ahe— ahem … Have you, um … **swung** into action, Imogen?"

Both Amelia and Davina collapsed in heaps of laughter.

Imogen huffed, threw the cutters down and left, slamming the door behind her.

The hysterical giggling of the pair eventually died down. Amelia wiped a tear from her eye, feeling the warming glow of humorous relief from her present tension as she composed herself.

"Has –" Amelia broke off to take another breath, still chuckling and rubbing her eyes as Davina did the same.

"Has Egbert said how Phyllis is doing? And Augusta and Deidre?"

"Improving." Davina reached for the toffee bag. Amelia had yet to eat her first piece. "Although Phyllis has apparently been **very **temperamental. I think she's maybe still having a few after-effects. He said he would keep checking back here and at Pentangle's. Algernon has been trying to fix the roof half the week. With George and the boys still being away, I think he thinks he's helping."

"Hmm. I presume it's not exactly, ah … perfect skillman-ship?" Amelia queried, popping the sweet into her mouth.

"Oh, no – it's not that. It's the fact he's scared of heights! Oh, how do you like my chilli toffee? It's another of my grandmother's recipes.

Amelia's eyes were streaming once again, but humour was definitely not the cause.

* * *

"Come on, Ethel … you have to eat something," Maud said coaxingly. She was watching her slowly spooning tomato soup up into the concave utensil before letting it dribble back into her green bowl.

Ethel's face was forlorn. She scraped back her chair from the table and left, passing a silent Drusilla, who was sitting with Ruby and Jadu, miffed that Ethel had barely spoken to her for the entire week.

Maud beckoned Enid. "Come on, we've got to get to the bottom of this."

They both stood up and quickly followed Ethel, leaving the three remaining girls looking thoroughly confused, and rushing past a red-faced Imogen, who was standing with her arms folded, tapping her right foot impatiently and gritting her teeth at the grating din of constant chattering in the room, which was serving to aggravate her black mood even further.

* * *

Mildred snuggled back further into her chair. Constance smiled at her as she mumbled something inaudible in her sleep.

Herbert poked his head around the door and entered the room. "Afternoon. You just woke up?"

Constance turned her head towards him and nodded, following him as he crossed the room.

"I think Mil must be catching up. She certainly has some stamina in her. I daresay a few of our junior doctors could do with that kind of energy." Herbert walked over to the window and drew the blinds fully shut against the sunlight. "In fact, most of the staff. Sixteen-hour-plus shifts are just not a good idea. One of the nurses on the children's ward once accidentally spilt a bag of blood all over a curtain as she was so exhausted, and consequently had inadvertently set the drip up the wrong way. Fortunately, the mother was fine about it, as she could have easily put a complaint in. Oh, and Hudson has decided they will give you another day or so before commencing physio again. I have just spoken to Amelia. She's on her way in shortly, said Imogen wa—" Herbert stopped short as he glanced at Constance. Her eyes had closed, her breathing soft and chest gently rising and falling as she fell back into deep slumber without a second's warning. Herbert smiled. He watched the pair for a minute or two before quietly leaving the room …

_**Mildred gingerly took the envelope in front of her, re-closing and replacing the Almanac on the bed. Her grandmother's handwriting was upon it. But it wasn't just her name. It said 'Constance' as well.**_

_**Mildred looked at her form mistress, silently confirming permission. Constance gazed back and nodded.**_

_**Mildred turned the envelope and pulled apart the neatly sliced top, taking out two sheets of paper. She opened the first sheet. It was predominantly typed, with exception to a small handwritten paragraph in her grandmother's distinctive script. After a few moments, Mildred drew a sharp breath, gasping in stunned shock. She re-looked at the sheet, her hands quivering as she reabsorbed the information upon it:**_

Broomhead Family Tree

_Mildred, I requested Mr Scott have this typed out as simply as possible to try and make it easier for you to understand._

_This is our family tree, dating back as far as Anastasia and Gerome Broomhead, who were your great-grandparents. They had seven children in total, including me. Two adopted twin girls and five blood kin. My four biological sisters were also two sets of identical twins. Constance will explain the connections between you all. _

Key: DOB – Date of Birth / DOD – Date of Death

Anastasia Jade Hawthorn: DOB 05/01/1915 – DOD 05/01/1959

Married on 02/02/1938 to:

Gerome Franklin Broomhead: DOB 20/09/1914 – DOD 05/01/1959

First Child – Twin:

Henbane Belladonna Broomhead: DOB 31/10/1938 –

No known marriage. No known children.

Second Child – Twin:

Hecketty Daphnia Broomhead: DOB 31/10/1938 –

No known marriage. No known children.

Third Child – Adopted Twin:

Evangelina Fauna Broomhead nee Moonstone: DOB 05/01/1939 – DOD 03/08/2000

Married on 21/09/1958 to:

Barclay Jeston Hallow: DOB 21/09/1935 – DOD 20/07/1996

Children:

William Jeston Hallow: DOB 23/09/1959 –

Married on 21/06/1978 to:

Selina Barrington-Redford: DOB 20/06/1960 –

Children:

Prudence Hallow: DOB 30/04/1979 –

Perdita Hallow: DOB 30/04/1979 –

Cornelia Hallow: DOB 21/03/1981 –

Etheliana Hallow: DOB 02/08/1986 –

Sybil Hallow: DOB 30/06/1987 –

Fourth Child – Adopted Twin:

Etheliana Flora Broomhead nee Moonstone: DOB 05/01/1939 – DOD 05/01/1991

Married on 21/09/1958 to:

Bartholomew Jasper Hallow: DOB 21/09/1935 – DOD 05/01/1991

No known children.

Fifth Child:

Roberta Rose Broomhead: DOB 05/01/1940 – DOD 05/01/1972

Married on 31/12/1961 to:

Vincent Eric Hardbroom: DOB 22/12/1938 – DOD: 05/01/1972

Children:

Constance Roberta Anastasia Kate Hardbroom: DOB 05/01/1963 –

Sixth Child:

Female twin to Roberta Rose Broomhead: DOB 05/01/1940 – DOD 05/01/1940

Un-named. Died at birth.

Seventh Child:

Anjelica Violet Broomhead: DOB 01/05/1941 –

Married on 16/01/1961 to:

Harrison Dwight Maitland: DOB 19/10/1936 – DOD 29/07/1972

Married on 14/09/1973 to:

Randall Hubble: DOB 26/11/1932 – DOD 25/10/1996

Children: 

Christian Robert Hubble nee Maitland: DOB 03/05/1961 – DOD 02/10/2000

Married on 31/12/1984 to:

Sarah Jessop: DOB 18/01/1963 – DOD 02/10/2000

Children:

Mildred Anastasia Hubble: DOB 05/01/1986 –

End of Document

_**"S-s-so …" Mildred swallowed, feeling light-headed and becoming increasingly nauseated. "So I'm … I'm your …"**_

_**"You are my first cousin once removed. Your father was my first cousin, and you, as his child, are once removed from me. Your grandmother was my aunt. And my late mother your great-aunt. As are Henbane and Hecketty. And were Evangelina and Etheliana."**_

_**"A-and … and Ethel?" **_

_**"Ethel and her sisters are both mine and your non-blood related cousins from Evangelina's marriage and subsequent son. As far as I am aware, the laws of adoption create the same legal alliance for extended family as blood," Constance replied, watching Mildred turn paler and wondering if her pupil was about to faint on her.**_

_**"The … the dates are al—" **_

_**"Most of the dates of birth, and in some cases marriage and death, are either on or very near to specific dates in the Wiccan calendar. It is often found in families who engender very strong magic, but sometimes it is merely coincidence." Constance drew a slow breath, repositioning herself, causing Mildred to look at her sharply and wonder the exact same thought Constance had less than a minute earlier.**_

_**"And … we … you and me and … and your –"**_

_**"Anastasia, Evangelina, Etheliana, Roberta, me and you share the same birthday, Mildred."**_

_**"But … ours isn't a special date … it's close, but –" **_

_**"Ours in special in a different way," Constance interjected. "That is not important right now."**_

_**"And Anastasia and … and Roberta … and –"**_

_**"Anastasia, Etheliana, Roberta and her twin all died on their birthdays."**_

_**"How did they …?" Mildred trailed off. Constance was looking away from her, blinking rapidly.**_

_**Mildred cleared her throat. "But Hecketty … she is … she was differ—"**_

_**"Hecketty had a Witchover to change her appearance when she was twelve to attend another school different to Henbane as they were rather unstable as a unit. As you already know, last year Miss Cackle recognised her as Wilhelmina Wormwood. The spell Sybil cast caused her to revert to her status as schoolgirl and, at that age, her appearance was very different. It made, however, very little difference, as we discovered, to her behaviour. She was eventually expelled and they were home tutored. At seventeen she reversed the spell and the two disappeared together." Constance looked at Mildred. Mildred looked back at Constance silently, watching her teacher's face palling further in the candlelight.**_

_**Mildred then turned her attention back to the second sheet lying beside the envelope. With her hands still shaking, she put down the first sheet, picked up and unfolded the remaining sheet very slowly, not knowing what was on it – and partly not wanting to know. She looked at the words and blinked, taking a deep breath and preparing to read the contents:**_

_5th December 2000_

_My dearest, darling Milliana,_

_I cannot even begin to tell you how very sorry I am for keeping all of this from you. As you are now probably aware, Constance is my niece, and your father's cousin, making you her first cousin once removed. _

_You have an extraordinary gift, my darling. The gift of magic, and not just any magic._

_You are a Witch of Purity, as is Constance, her mother and grandmother before her. This power is beyond anything you can conceive, and it grows stronger with each generation. It carries down the bloodline choosing only the wisest souls to enter, souls for which the power will be used for goodness and virtue._

_You are special in a way you could never have imagined. And the magic you shall wield is ancient, unprecedented power._

_Constance knows what to do to help you for your future._

_One day, you will understand why this was never revealed until necessary. One day, you will be aware of a change in your soul, a change taking you from the witch you are now to the witch you shall become. _

_But please, always be aware that I love you more dearly than words can say. Your parents would be beyond proud, and I shall always be with you both._

_Stay safe, my darling, and always look after each other. _

_All my love, now and forever,_

_Nanny Anjelica _

_XXX_

_**Mildred drew a shuddery breath, looking up from the paper, her face flowing with tears.**_

_**Constance met her eyes …**_

_**"Why didn't you tell me?" Mildred's voice was barely a whisper, croaky and weak with shock.**_

_**"Because … she asked me not to," Constance replied softly. Her tone was strained, as if she was struggling to contain her emotions.**_

_**Mildred swallowed. "Then why now?"**_

_**"Because you are the only one who can help …"**_

* * *

Mildred bolted upright in her seat as she jumped awake, ears ringing and her heart beating so hard she could feel the pulsating organ thumping against her chest wall. Constance was still asleep, undisturbed by the whimpered cry Mildred had released as she awoke. Mildred moved her eyes around the room, swallowing hard and taking a few deep breaths, feeling her heart rate slowing as she calmed.

She looked up at the clock: 5.32 p.m. precisely. _Miss Cackle will be here soon, _she thought. She sank back into the chair, her mind still pondering her dream. Constance turned her head slightly, flexing her left hand, her fingers searchingly grasping the air. Mildred smiled and put her hand back in hers, watching her as she slept peacefully.

* * *

"Ethel … please, Ethel, open the door," Enid said encouragingly. She and Maud were pleading outside the room and had been for almost twenty minutes.

They heard the latch lift and, very slowly, the heavy oak door was pulled inwards. Ethel was standing almost behind it. She looked at them, her face once again streaked with tears.

"This has gone on long enough. You have to tell us what's going on so we can help you, Ethel," Maud said softly.

Ethel gestured them into her room, closing the door behind them.

Enid sat down on Ethel's bed, immediately noticing a photo lying on her pillow. Maud sat beside Enid, stroking the pink nose of Ethel's snoring cat, who was lying on her back, stretched out like a sunbather with her paws above her head.

Ethel walked over to the window, pushing open the shutters and wiping her face. For a few moments she remained silent. She then approached the bed and took hold of the sepia photograph, showing a woman in a black-and-white gown and a man in a tailed black suit and bow tie.

"They were my great-aunt and great-uncle. It's their wedding day. When … when the doctor said her name, I … I knew instantly it must be them he was talking about. He … said … she was stabbed with a Soul Dagger –" Ethel gulped, tears once again streaming her face. "I … I can still remember them. I was their favourite. I … I was four when … they both were … Mum and Dad wouldn't tell me how they died; just that it was an accident. But … my … my sister Prue … she overheard them saying some things. I … I never understood what she meant until now … She's who I was named after – my full name is Etheliana. She was very ill just before Mum had me so they chose her name for me. They said she … she pulled through because of me. Dad was really close to her. He was devastated when she died …" She passed the picture to Enid.

Enid released a small gasp. "Ethel … I've just realised … the portrait in the Great Hall …"

Ethel nodded.

"Who are the other two of?" Maud asked, now tickling Nightstar's tummy.

Ethel cleared her throat. "One is Hortensia Hallow, my great-great-grandmother. My paternal grandfather's grandmother. She founded the school with Miss Cackle's mother and grandmother. The other is Hortensia's daughter-in-law, Prudence. She married Hortensia's son, Errol, my paternal grandfather's father." She cleared her throat again. "It was Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Granny Hermione Cackle who bequeathed the money originally. Miss Cackle's family saved it over the years and combined it with my great-great-grandma's money so they had enough to buy the castle from the previous owners then formulate the school." She looked to the picture. "Everyone shortened her name to Ethel, like they do with me."

"How old were they? This photo looks ancient," Enid commented.

Ethel sniffed. "They were fifty-two and fifty-five when … when they died. I don't know who took it. Mum and Dad never really go into details about their family before Grandma and Great-Auntie. It would have been an old camera, I suppose."

Maud looked at Enid, silently hinting for her to change the subject. Enid looked at Ethel, wishing she had kept her mouth shut. Ethel's eyes were brimming with tears.

"I … um … I've been having nightmares. Every time I shut my eyes I see them being attacked. Prue had said that … that … Great-Uncle Bart died trying to protect her. He … I … Miss Hardbroom … she … I saw what was happening to her … and … now I k-keep s-seeing them and her b-being a-attacked all over a-again …" Ethel buried her face in her hands.

Enid looked back at Maud and the pair took Ethel in their arms, sitting her on the bed, one at either side of her.

Ethel cried for a long time.

* * *

Imogen folded the last of a heap of crisp white towels into a neat pile and replaced them in the white cupboard before her. She turned and looked around at the empty infirmary, barely realising warm tears were rolling down her face. At first, she didn't know why she was crying, but then it hit her, and not for the first or even the second time that week. The room was a blatant reminder of that night, provoking memories which were now flooding her brain, invading and distorting every image in her mind's eye.

That night … The night when the three lines of communication for near-instantaneous help proved to be utterly hopeless.

Imogen stood leaning against the cupboard, reflecting back on her induction day when she had joined Cackle's. A non-witch teacher in a school of witchcraft was hardly common practice. She was made aware of a number of things, and last but not least, the emergency procedures, as, being a school of magic, all sorts of things could – and did – happen.

The Witchcraft and Wizardry Federation of Magical Excellence had implemented a supposedly foolproof system years before she even came to the school. They had implemented it for every school involved with the teachings of witchcraft and wizardry, where any members of staff with sufficient magical skills could use a highly developed potion combined with an incantation to open up a direct gateway between one of the two formulated Guilds respective to the school – the Witches' Guild or Wizards' Guild – and them. All you had to do was throw the potion at a wall, any wall, recite the activation code and the emergency alarm would trigger an instant alert for help. Help would then arrive as soon as possible through the gateway. The scheme was not to be taken lightly, however; the magic involved was so powerful it was licensed to the Guilds by the Federation on terms of absolute necessity. The penalty for anything other than life and death was severe, owing to an initial tendency of some schools to call out the emergency teams at the drop of a hat.

Constance, Amelia and Davina all had the capability to call upon the service. Well, Davina's expertise was debatable, but the point was, they could alert the authorities and have immediate magical assistance and, perhaps more importantly, specialist Sorcermed assistance, if it was required.

There had been the odd occasion where they could have done with the extra help, but Agatha's previous schemes had fortunately been fully controlled, and Mildred's quick thinking had dealt with the tornado incident.

Naturally, there was a back-up plan, and a simple one at that: a jointly run telephone service to divert calls to either the Guilds or the Federation directly. Cackle's was one of only three schools who did not have telephone access up until recent months, but they had always managed previously as there was a telephone box situated at the very bottom of their mountain which would have served them if required. But events decided changes were needed in the end. Of course, working hours of nine in the morning until five in the evening Monday to Friday made that option somewhat useless at gone seven o'clock at night on a weekend. The Federation and Guild claimed the chances of all of the teachers with the necessary skills being incapable of dealing with a problem, failing to instigate the correct procedures for the invocation of the emergency alert, and the telephone service being closed all at the same time was minimal. Plus, from a purely medical point of view, Cackle's was in fairly close vicinity to a doctors' surgery down in the local village. The fact that the surgery was currently undergoing a revamp thanks to the freak incident courtesy of Mother Nature in April and people were currently having to travel almost fifteen miles to seek help elsewhere – unless it was an absolute emergency – had apparently not hit their radar with quite enough force, despite the fact they knew all about it. The powers-that-be were obviously of the opinion they still had all bases covered with Cackle's. It transpired that Davina had tried ringing the local surgery's out-of-hours emergency number as well, but had found the line constantly engaged. After Davina had told her what happened, Imogen was sure there was something else behind it.

But in the end, like everything, it all came down to money. Inadequate systems always boiled down to money. From the Federation, Guild and Board's point of view, they had done their best for Cackle's with what funding there was available. To employ a full-time nurse was more than the school could afford. Once quarterly check-ups and relying on four first-aid trained teachers was deemed acceptable.

Amelia had basic training, but openly admitted that medicine was not her forte. And as for Davina – her remedies were legendary for not working. Imogen, therefore, had opted to do the additional course at the hospital, as the once three-yearly Guild one had made her feel so unwelcome on the previous occasion she almost left halfway through. Granted, even the hospital course was full of those additionally qualified in magic, but at least they didn't make her feel like she was surplus to requirements.

Constance already had advanced knowledge and accomplished ability to deal with most situations, even fairly dire ones, and the emergency system was always there 'just in case', so it seemed they would be capable of coping with anything. And according, once again, to the powers-that-be, there was always the 'mortal' emergency services and the Yellow Pages for everything else!

Imogen snorted as the last thought crossed her mind.

The telephone service was obviously out of the question that night. But there was always Amelia, Davina and the enchantment, at least, there would have been, had they still been in possession of the potion in the first place.

'Surely nothing could go wrong in such a short space of time?' was the Guild's answer some weeks previously; after all, the replacement potion was 'in progress and should be with you soon'.

And the final means of contact? She was lying in a pool of her own blood, barely able to breathe.

_Sod's law just doesn't fucking cover it, _Imogen thought bitterly, her seething anger directed towards the supposedly perfect system.

Imogen was sure at the time she was doing her very best in a catastrophic situation. It was only when she sat and thought – really thought – about the events that guilt set in so hard she was sure she'd never be able to forgive herself. And had Constance died, she would never have been able to look the others in the eye. But could she have done more? She didn't even ask for the first-aid box to be brought. A few towels and blankets was her laughable request. Oh, and bandages. She had remembered to ask for bandages but not the box! And both girls forgot those due to their own shock from witnessing their teacher's resulting state.

_Stupid. So bloody stupid_. _I could … I __**should**__ have done more. But … Constance, surely Constance could ha_— Her mind stopped dead, her thoughts suddenly overwhelmed with questions filling her head, and then the realisation, or explanation, hit her like a brutal punch in the stomach. She ran over to the sink in the corner of the room and turned on the taps, splashing her face with cold water and trying not to let her retching become productive as she began to hyperventilate. Forcing herself to breathe normally, she slowly knelt down, gripping the sides of the basin for support.

She stayed like that for while, her breathing gradually regulating as she began to think more clearly, attempting to make some sense of the thoughts now swirling around her head. She eventually straightened up, turned and took a step forwards, hearing a noise outside the infirmary. The noise was coming closer. Imogen automatically wiped her face and cleared her throat as Davina popped her head around the door.

"I thought I might find you in here." Davina looked at Imogen, feeling a wash of guilt herself for her joke at her colleague's expense earlier. "Imogen, whatever is the matter?" Davina hurried over to Imogen as she reached for a towel and dried her still-wet face and hairline.

"Honestly …? Everything, Davina. Everything." She wrapped the towel around her neck and walked away, unable to utter another word.

Davina stood agog and watched her leave the room, wondering, not for the first or even second time, what was wrong … and what Imogen knew that she didn't?

* * *

Amelia entered the hospital room, still rubbing the remnants of alcohol gel around her hands. Constance was very still. Her eyelids were moving but she was unmistakably asleep.

Mildred put her fingers to her lips, indicating her to hush. "She's been sleeping quietly for a while now," she whispered.

"Good," Amelia whispered in reply. "Have you had anything to eat, Mildred?"

Mildred rolled her eyes.

"I'll take that as a 'no', then." Amelia sighed, shaking her head and adjusting her handbag. "Come on, let's go and see if Herbert's managed to get something sent up. He met me in the corridor and went to order some food."

Mildred carefully slid her hand from Constance's, quietly pushed back her chair and stood up, tenderly tucking the blanket up further around her. Amelia smiled, wondering for a brief moment which one of them was the adult and which one the child.

Mildred looked back twice as they left the room …

_**Constance gradually opened her eyes and instantly cried out as immense pain flashed through her skull, automatically putting her hand behind her head. Pulling it away as a wave of nausea crept up her throat, she felt lukewarm blood moistening her skin. As her vision adjusted to the dimly lit room, she noticed Henbane watching her from the doorway. Her sallow face was livid. Constance turned her head to the left and saw Hecketty kneeling by the wall and attaching a long metal chain to a hook which had been screwed into the crumbly plaster. The chain had a single handcuff on it.**_

_**Fear gripped her as Henbane entered the room. She grabbed hold of her niece's hair and pulled her upright, forcing her head forwards and examining the bloodied bump beneath. "She'll live." Her voice was frosty, indifferent. She released her grip and took a cigarette from her dress pocket, putting it in her mouth and lighting the end with a twitch of her fingers.**_

_**Hecketty walked over to her niece. She roughly pulled her body off the bed and seized her thin wrist, clamping the biting cuff around her skin.**_

_**Constance yelped as a harsh kick from Henbane caused her legs to buckle to the floor. Hecketty seized her head, forcing it backwards. She grasped her dress and ripped it down, uncovering her left collarbone. Henbane took her lit cigarette burned it into her clavicle with rancour, and then did it again, and again. Constance didn't make a sound as silent tears streamed down her face. Hecketty released her grip. Constance swayed slightly, biting her tongue until it bled to stifle her cries of pain.**_

_**"This time you won't escape. You'll stay with us until we've obtained everything we want from you," Hecketty hissed.**_

_**Henbane summoned a plate, which appeared on Constance's small bedside table. Upon it was a crust of old bread covered with a matchbox-sized piece of stale cheese. She then conjured up a pile of books on the floor. **_

_**"You will continue to learn and develop your power. This September, you will accompany Hecketty to the Witch Training College. There you will live and she will train you as a teacher from now until you are twenty-one. You will then reimburse us financially until such a time as we see fit – it will take many years for you to make amends for all our due care and attention since you came to us." **_

_**Hecketty smiled at her sister and drew closer to Constance's face. "And you will continue to endure EVERY spell we wish from the Almanac."**_

_**Henbane picked up the knotted pillowcase Constance had tried to take with her from the floor. She untied it and removed the gold-plated brush, walking around and placing it roughly on the table. She removed the Almanac, catching her niece's gaze with hatred. The book vanished from her hands. She then took the photograph.**_

_**Constance looked down, overwhelming terror seething within her body.**_

_**Henbane slowly crept back around the bed and crouched in front of Constance. She held the photograph in eyeline of Constance, her fingertips sparking. She threw it upwards, blasting it with red light: it split into several pieces and they fluttered to the floor. The back of Henbane's right hand flew through the air, striking her niece's face with such force her entire body was knocked back hard into the wall, her head catching the outer edge of the windowsill.**_

_**The two sisters left the room, locking the door behind them.**_

_**The clanking din of the chain binding Constance's wrist echoed as it hit the floor, followed by her limp form as she lost consciousness once again …**_

* * *

"I think we are going to have to sedate her. This is getting ridiculous."

Dr Trudy Roebuck was leaning above Constance's violently shaking body. Her heartbeat was racing wildly. Trudy was listening to its rhythm intently, Constance's breathing panicked once more.

Constance fluttered her eyelids open slowly, showing Mildred's teary face gradually coming into focus. The bleeping of the machine was blaring out, and the lights were on and intensely bright above her. Two nurses were standing opposite Mildred, one observing the monitor and silencing the emergency alarm, and the other holding Constance's right hand. Constance could hear Herbert's voice vaguely in the background. She tried to call out Mildred's name, barely able to get the words to leave her throat.

It didn't matter, Mildred knew what she wanted. It didn't have to be audible.

"Hey, hey … I'm here, I'm here, calm down …"

"Constance," Trudy partly knelt to face her eye to eye, "will you please consent to a sedative?"

Constance nodded slightly, still gasping and clutching the bed sheets in fear.

Mildred stepped into Trudy's place, reaching for and unclamping her left hand from the bed and talking to her as Trudy walked over to the sink. She washed and dried her hands before gloving up and busying herself with one of the trolleys.

Amelia was hesitating in the doorway, watching her deputy cling to her pupil with the same ferocious grip of a lost toddler clutching a found parent. Herbert was standing next to her, chatting quietly, having just ushered two junior doctors away from the room, feeling that Constance could do without the extra attention.

"Trudy is going to give her a little sedative. She is simply not resting enough as it seems every time she shuts her eyes her heartbeat is doing overtime. Have you any idea what's she's dreaming about? Trudy said Mildred told her she was remembering her childhood," Herbert added, circumspectly seeking more information.

Amelia's face whitened slightly. "I … um … yes … I mean, I don't really know the details. I think Mildred knows more than she's letting on."

Herbert looked over to Constance. Trudy was injecting the contents of a syringe into one of her lines.

"That should help, at least for the remainder of the night. I think tomorrow we should endeavour to try and start her eating. I'd rather not have to tube-feed her and she is otherwise making good progress with regard to her wound healing." Trudy looked up at Mildred, who was stroking Constance's forehead gently, then walked back across the room to dispose of the syringe and other items and rewash her hands.

"Herbert, when you came the first time … did … did you see the scars?" Amelia probed timidly, her voice softer than a whisper.

"Amelia, as her doctor it was not my place to tell you. I could only disclose what she authorised me to."

"Has she any more?" Amelia pressed further, glancing towards the bed and back at him.

Herbert looked away from her.

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then." Amelia paled a little more, drawing a slow breath. She seemed to be suppressing the urge to retch.

Trudy was walking around the bed, observing the monitor's screen, checking over the drips and lines and giving inaudible instructions to the nurses, one of whom was making sure the pulse ox and electrodes were still properly attached. Mildred moved to allow Trudy to listen to Constance's breathing again.

"I think it's kicking in." Trudy looked up and glanced again at the screen, listening to the monitor's bleeping. She looked at her patient. Already, Constance's eyes had closed, her breathing and heartbeat slowing to a calm regularity. Trudy nodded slightly, satisfied the crisis – for now – was over. She took Constance's chart from one of the nurses and made several notes.

"I think we shall attempt removing the oxygen tomorrow – see how she does without it. Hopefully move her to the post-surgical ward in a couple of days." Trudy looked at Herbert, who had stepped into the room and nodded to her in agreement.

Mildred sat down as Trudy walked past. Constance's hand was now unclenched, but Mildred still maintained her gentle yet firm grip, refusing to release it.

Amelia nodded her thanks to the pair as they left the room, followed by the staff. She walked over to the bed, watching her soundly sleeping deputy.

Mildred had leaned back and shut her eyes, too.

Amelia couldn't help but feel it was to avoid her imminently upcoming questions. She quietly took a chair and placed it beside Constance, hanging her bag across the back and scraping herself further towards the bed. She carefully took her other hand, which, at that moment, was more to comfort Amelia herself, rather than Constance.

Amelia sat for a few minutes, just watching and thinking, feeling a bubble of ominous unease grow stronger in her chest, so great in intensity she had a powerful urge to run from the room for some air, or to vomit. But she didn't. She couldn't leave them. Her legs felt heavy. And all of a sudden, she felt drained. Emotionally and physically drained. She sighed softly as a tear ran down her face and pursed her lips to prevent more spilling out, feeling as if she no longer knew the so very different, so very fragile, woman, lying almost motionless, almost lifeless, before her.


	23. Chapter 23

***NCD hovers on her broomstick, points to the smoke in the sky that reads 'Airborne Author's Note' and grins***

Hello, my little pretties! Here I am with another instalment! My apologies for the delay – what can I say, except that life is sometimes an utter cyclone of chaos at times!

Hopefully (again) not long (again) until the next one! And please, **please** keep those reviews flying in!

*NCD winks at Kimmeth and points long, sharp green fingernail towards the bottom of the screen …*

No – **wait **– read the chapter **first**_ … _Now **review**, my pretties, REVIEW …

*cue maniacal laughter ringing into the distance and winged pencils soaring towards the awaiting revi— um readers, readers, I meant readers …*

* * *

**UPDATED: 2ND DECEMBER 2009**

**WARNING: GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 23**

* * *

"I think she's settled," Maud whispered, fidgeting on her seat and straightening her back.

"Yeah … **finally**. I didn't think she'd ever calm down. Do you think we should tell Bat and Dr – i – l – l?" Enid yawned, stretching her arms and flexing her feet. She was sitting cross-legged on Ethel's bedroom floor, still in her – now heavily creased – uniform. She lifted Midnight off her lap, much to Midnight's disgust.

"I think that's up to Ethel, really. I can't blame her for taking it so badly now, not after all this. And if one of my family had been killed in such a way, I don't think I'd react very well, either," Maud added, putting her hand over her mouth as she stifled a yawn.

"What time is it?" Enid looked towards the half-open shutters, seeing that daylight was already making itself known, though the forest birds' noisy chattering and a distant, demented woodpecker was also a rather good indication.

Maud yawned again and looked at her digital wrist watch, her most recent birthday present, normally kept hidden from HB, owing to the fact it played the _Bewitched_ theme tune at the most inconvenient of times.

"Almost 5.04 a.m. Good job we don't have normal lessons, isn't it? I didn't realise we'd been at it nearly all night, but I think the talk will have done her good. We should stay until she wakes up, though." Maud looked over to Ethel. She was lying on her back, taking up practically the entire bed slant-ways from tip to toe. Neither had wanted to disturb her once she had dropped off. Nightstar was curled up by Ethel's neck, purring loudly.

Enid went to stand up. "Ooooow! Bloody hell – remind me never to sit on the floor this long again!"

"Enid, shhh!"

"Sorry," she mouthed, still bent and rubbing her sore knees, and then she straightened up. "Whoooaaa …" She teetered for a moment on her feet.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah … er … bit … woozy. Probably because we didn't eat much last night." Enid quietly cleared her throat a couple of times. "I er … I'm just nipping to the loo." She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders before leaving silently, smirking at Teaser, who had Tabby tightly clamped between his paws and was giving him a very thorough cleaning.

Maud watched her leave. She sighed and turned her attention back to Ethel. Ethel was still sleeping soundly, and Nightstar purring in unison with her mistress's slow breaths. Maud slouched down a little in her chair, allowing her legs to slide across the floor and folding her arms around her middle. She yawned again, knowing she'd be yawning all day now she had started. Midnight padded towards her and jumped up onto her lap, making her way up Maud's chest and nuzzling her with her wet nose.

_I bet HB's missing Morgana – she's sure as **hell** missing her,_ Maud thought, listening to the low purring of the cats in the room.

Maud obligingly opened her arms and petted Midnight, now lying happily on Maud's chest, all the while watching Ethel and thinking about what she had told them. She found herself thinking back to a specific point in one of their conversations: Ethel had, through washes of tears, mentioned that her when her great-aunt had died, at the funeral reception – as Ethel had not attended the actual funeral – her great-aunt's housekeeper had turned up back at the house, and her grandmother had gone ballistic with this person, but no one knew why, and her grandmother had not elaborated to the rest of the family, at least, not at that moment in time. Ethel had said a fair bit more, perhaps not realising, or caring, that they now knew so much about her past; she seemed beyond the point of protecting her family's values. She seemed angry, hurt and, in a way, like a person who had been unforgivably betrayed.

* * *

Enid stood at the sink and concluded that HB's general irritability was perfectly warranted if this was how she felt ninety per cent of the time from lack of proper rest.

Enid felt very strange: halfway between sleep and wakefulness, and almost like she needed to pinch herself to ascertain she was actually functioning. She felt like she was in a dreamlike state. The world around her felt odd, and the last couple of days had seemed to flow so quickly – was it really just over a week since that night?

She left the bathroom, feeling as if her head was stuffed with cotton wool, and walked silently along the corridor back to Ethel's. She stopped and turned her head as her ears picked up the sound of footsteps. Following the trail of noise, she made her way to the top of the staircase landing. Peering over the thick oak banister, she watched silently as Imogen, dressed in blue pyjamas remarkably reminiscent of a tracksuit, stepped off the bottom step and made her way over to Davina, who was walking quietly down the hallway.

Davina stopped and turned towards Imogen, revealing a fuzzy ball of black lying like a baby in her arms; a considerable contrast to her fluffy, feathery pink dressing gown and kitten-heeled pink slippers.

Imogen stifled a giggle at Davina's garments. Having had a slight issue with a gift voucher her great-nephew had sent her for her birthday, Davina had purchased the only remaining items in her size from the nightwear section at the shop in the city's retail centre. It turned out, following a letter of apology from her great-nephew, that the voucher was supposed to have been for another store and there had been a mix up when he accidentally wrapped and labelled the wrong one – the other had gone to his partner. Imogen had taken her to spend it in the sales, so she could at least reply and say she had got something anyway. Davina had no idea who on earth Ann Summers was, but Imogen certainly knew; she had not let her live the down the remaining part of her outfit for weeks afterwards.

"The potion worked, then? You'd never think her cat could be so soppy."

Davina nodded, smiling. "I take it you couldn't sleep, either?"

"I've just been wandering around the castle. I keep listening for Ethel screaming; she's looking as white as Constance these last few days. Do you … have you thought any more about … about Mildred?"

Davina shifted Morgana's weight a little in her tired arms. "Um …"

Imogen looked at Morgana. "I think you can put her down, Davina. She seems happy enough … for now."

Davina looked at Morgana dubiously.

On Friday evening, Amelia, before quietly retiring, given the lateness of the hour, had gone to Constance's bedroom to find Morgana curled up on her mistress's pillow. Morgana had seemed fine – a little subdued, but fine. Amelia had taken her to bed with her, partly due to wanting the comforting purr of a cat nearby – she had had a very trying twenty-four hours – but, more importantly, she had promised Constance she would make sure she was all right. Constance had slept almost non-stop that day, waking only a few times to briefly open her eyes before closing them almost immediately. But once, and only once, Amelia had casually mentioned Morgana's name, saying that Constance needed to get better as soon as possible as Morgana was dearly missing her, and her eyes had shot open, staring at Amelia and desperately trying to communicate. Amelia understood – at least, she thought she did. She assured Constance she would check on her the second she got back, and half-wished she had not told her deputy how much her cat was pining for her.

By the following morning, Morgana had obviously regained some of her appetite, having been on and off her food all week like a yo-yo, though Amelia had concluded she must have subsequently developed indigestion given the amount of moaning she was doing throughout the rest of the day. But then on Saturday evening, Imogen was pottering around the school when she heard a cat – which she knew must be Morgana, as she had spent most of Thursday hiding under Constance's bed, giving out the occasional cry – start to yowl with all its might. Then, through the night, twice more, another series of chilling meows had come once again from Constance's room.

Early on Sunday morning, Imogen, upon going to Constance's quarters, found a very nervy black ball of hissing fur curled up once again under Constance's bed. She had tried to entice her out, wondering how long it would be before she began to sneeze, but to no avail. Ironically, she didn't begin sneezing, either, which was perhaps a good thing – she wouldn't have wanted to miss her run with the girls.

And then Sunday afternoon, three separate times, a series of yowled screams were heard again in the teachers' wing of the castle.

Finally, on Sunday evening, Imogen had gone to Constance's quarters after she had left the infirmary. On her approach, the spine-tingling wails of a distressed feline began to sound, but this time they were so loud they echoed throughout the entire castle. Not knowing precisely what to do – the poor animal was obviously in a bit of a state, and if the girls had not heard Morgana before, they would certainly hear her now – Imogen fetched Davina, who muttered something about trying to find the Catnap Tonic, before scurrying off, leaving Imogen to sit on Constance's bed and listen to the distraught creature cry at painfully high decibels. Eventually, she stopped and crawled out, mewing around Imogen's legs. Davina had come back in by that point and managed to coax her into eating a piece of chicken, dosed with the suitable remedy. Morgana had then settled comfortably into Davina's arms, fallen asleep and pretty much stopped there ever since.

Davina crouched down and softly put Morgana onto the floor. Morgana stood up gingery, half asleep still, and twitched her nose a few times, her tail swishing from side to side. She then lifted her ears and shot off down the hallway and up the staircase.

Enid quickly moved out of her way, consciously trying not to alert either teacher to her presence.

Morgana made her way to her mistress's room, where she would continue to remain for most of her time, waiting for Constance's return.

"I think she must be missing her terribly. God knows how she must have felt that night … I don't recall hearing her crying then, though. I wonder what's got into her …?" Davina trailed off, pursing her lips and tapping her fingers against her chin.

Imogen cleared her throat, still waiting for an answer to her bubbling question. Animals were not really her forte, but she had, admittedly, also concluded Morgana must have a very strong connection with Constance to be so distressed without her.

"So, um, as I was saying …" Imogen felt a little awkward, but she also felt somewhat left out of the loop. Amelia seemed to chat to Davina a touch more than her when she was around the school; at least, for topics other than Constance's general progress and the goings-on of the school and Pentangle's.

Davina brought her gaze up to Imogen, feeling that Imogen, as a member of staff, the other person to have saved Constance's life and, what's more, her friend, had a right to be kept fully informed, and that included Davina's own thoughts on the matter.

"In all honesty, Imogen, I've never in my life heard of anything like it. We all know that Constance is an extremely powerful and accomplished witch, though she doesn't exactly put on a public display with regard to her extra talents. But how on earth she knew Mildred could access those enchantments is quite beyond me. I … I've never seen a witch conjure a spell from nowhere … Amelia said it's as if the **book** itself knew precisely what she needed. Imagine if she hadn't found that spell? Constance wouldn't be here now. It gives me the shivers just thinking about how **close** she's come to dying, and more than once, at that. When I think of how easily we could have lost her again …"

Davina paused for a moment. Imogen shifted her legs a little, indicating for Davina to continue.

"And … er … the other thing is … Amelia said Constance and Mildred have formed some sort of bond with each other. But, you see … Constance … In all the years I've known her, Imogen … she's never allowed a person to get anywhere **near** her … She even keeps Amelia at a safe distance … It's … just so … unlike her."

Straining to hear further, Enid leaned more over, cursing silently when the banister creaked, but fortunately it went unnoticed.

"Me, too. And … I know we've had our differences, but … God, I still can't get my head around what's happened. I keep seeing it like an action reply. W-when Agatha struck … and she … when she didn't get up again … Then when she … when she … And her … the marks on her skin … And me, Davina. Amelia said she was especially concerned for **me**, and I've … we've never …" Imogen trailed off, staring towards the floor.

Davina nodded in agreement, sensing her colleague's obvious need to talk, despite how chewing over old ground wouldn't change anything.

"It's just gone five, but I've slept enough if you fancy some hot chocolate and a chat?" Davina inclined her head towards the kitchen's entrance.

Imogen nodded gratefully, relieved at the prospect of releasing some of her burdensome thoughts, if only to make more room in her clustered head.

"We've a couple of hours left until they are all up, maybe we can rustle up some early breakfast. I presume Maud, Enid and Ethel were together all night again?"

"I think it likely. I caught Enid in the corridor before lights out and she said they were keeping her company for a bit. She seemed a bit evasive, actually. But I didn't want to push it. I think they are old enough now to know when to ask for one of us if and when they want our help. Anyway, I negotiated an 8.15 a.m. lie-in with her until things return to some sort of normality. For her part she has agreed to never interfere with my assault course again," Imogen said, smiling a little.

Davina put her arm around Imogen's shoulders and led her towards the kitchen in the dungeons, resisting the urge to laugh: Imogen had cut down the swings and it transpired they had re-affixed themselves within seconds of her turning her back.

As they quietly continued down the hallway, Enid knelt down, her fingers around the spindles, and her head reeling with confusion from the revelations of the gathered conversation.

* * *

Herbert walked softly around the bed. Constance had not moved for the entire night.

_Not surprising, given the dose Trudy gave her,_ he thought.

He glanced at Mildred and Amelia. Both were sleeping quietly. Mildred, unsurprisingly, still had Constance's hand in hers. Amelia was obviously exhausted. Her head was leaning lethargically on the edge of Constance's bed, one arm beneath, and her hand just touching the tips of Constance's fingers, as if she wanted to Constance to know she was there, but without making her too aware of the contact.

He stood at the end of Constance's bed for a few moments, arms folded, watching her sleep, his mind pondering her reactions of the last few days. He had a deep, unsettled feeling about what she had obviously been through, and he didn't like it.

He had always considered himself both a doctor and a friend to his patients. It was true he took things to heart, and he always cried when he lost a patient. Not in front of anyone, of course, but privately later.

Constance, Mildred and Amelia – he now felt like part of their world. Amelia was only a little younger than his mother would have been. He sighed, wondering if his father would still be practicing if he had still been alive now. At least they saw him qualify. He missed them greatly, even after all these years, especially Christmastime.

Mildred let out a small grunt. Herbert smiled as she shuffled down and rested her head on her chair's arm. He silently left the room …

_**Mildred cleared her throat, watching as Constance repositioned herself on the bed. **_

_**"So … so help in what?"**_

_**"Mildred, within this book there are a great number of enchantments: a mixture of spells, incantations and potions. This book, Mildred, was your great-great-grandmother's. My great-grandmother's, my grandmother's, my mother's … and now mine. Mildred … you carry a force within you; a force so strong you do not even realise your strength of power. This was not something I was going to reveal to you until I had to, and I cannot tell you why. You … you have to trust me. Now, we do not have time to take this slowly, so I must ask you to listen very carefully to every word I say from this moment on."**_

_**Constance looked at her, her face solemn. **_

_**Mildred looked bewildered. She swallowed and nodded softly.**_

_**"I believe that Phyllis Pentangle is Agatha Cackle."**_

_**Mildred's eyes widened, suddenly shiny and alert. "B-but … how … why …?"**_

_**"Mildred, the potion used on you tonight is from this book. I have had no cause to look at the Almanac for several months. When I checked it this evening, I found it had been tampered with. I have a number of enchantments in place on the book, two of which are not only powerful but are also the primary protections: the Detectification Spell and the Recognication Spell. I had each in place to alert me instantly if the book was ever located, and to reveal what had been viewed and, what's more, who by. The Detectification Spell had been completely removed before the alarm could trigger the intruder's presence. The second enchantment was not, however, disabled, and it revealed Agatha's Magical Imprint was scattered throughout the book … And it featured most strongly on a few very specific enchantments. Upon further investigation, I discovered she has copied the entire book with the Xeroxico Duplicatis enchantment. Mildred, that spell is highly advanced, much more advanced than I believe she is capable of alone. The book was very heavily protected, and very heavily concealed, to avoid it ever being found or removed from my possession. I … I do not know how she accessed the knowledge to find and copy the book."**_

_**Mildred swallowed again, feeling sicker by the minute.**_

_**"Mildred, from the announcement of this competition and, indeed, as you are aware, for the last few months I have been 'out of sorts' as you all so kindly put it."**_

_**Mildred looked down, feeling guilty.**_

_**"This is not chastisement, Mildred. The fact is I have not been on form and my energy levels are now beginning to fail. I have been unable to ally my suspicions during the run up to today that a serious situation is about to occur. Agatha has gained a number of very dangerous spells. If Agatha is planning to use the weapon she has more than likely created, the results will be catastrophic if she succeeds, and only you have to power to stop her."**_

_**"Me …? What I can possibly do?" Mildred said quickly, her voice shrill and incredulous.**_

_**"Agatha has shown significant interest in Body Switching and Superior Psyche Domination. But … her Magical Imprint was also on … on the Soul Dagger."**_

**_Mildred looked at her, more puzzled than ever, and also concerned at how pale Constance had turned: she was almost as white as a ghost._**

**_"Body Switching appears – on the surface, for want of a better expression – to be what it states: a switch of bodies. But I am afraid it is not quite as simple as that. Superior Psyche Domination is, in effect, mind control, also known as entrancement. And … and the Soul Dagger is a formed weapon – one that is created specifically. This weapon is the most lethally dangerous above all magical entities, Mildred, and … it has only one purpose: to kill the victim allowing the perpetrator to completely absorb their Magical Soul – more than can be seen outwardly … All of their magic, Mildred, regardless of how much the victim actually uses out of their full potential. It … removes every last morsel of power."_**

_**Constance repositioned herself again, pausing momentarily as a wash of nausea and wooziness crept over her. **_

_**Mildred noticed the last elements of colour drain from Constance's face, and the way her hands had moved from her lap to either side of her, steadying her body.**_

_**"Er … do you want to lie down, Miss?"**_

_**Miss, Mildred thought. Do I still call her 'Miss'?**_

_**Constance shook her head, immediately wishing she hadn't as it reinforced the level of dizziness.**_

_**"Just … a few …"**_

_**Constance breathed in and out several times through gritted teeth, eyes closed, internally wondering how much longer she could keep going. Mildred needed to understand. No, more than that – it was of the utmost importance she knew precisely what to do. It was a matter of life and death.**_

_**Mildred sat, restlessly gazing down at her grandmother's letter still in her hand, half of her feeling like she should forcibly make her form mistress lie down on her bed, and half of her wanting to ask the millions of questions whizzing around her brain.**_

_**Constance suddenly started talking again, drawing Mildred from her thoughts.**_

_**"As I was –" Constance cleared her throat pointedly. "Saying … Phyllis Pentangle is unquestionably different. Her owl was extremely disorientated when she arrived, and obviously uncomfortable being around her – you may have noticed how it fled from her the second she released it. Animals pick up on very sensitive changes in people, and it would certainly detect that she was not really its mistress. She also enquired after my health. Although it is apparently no secret I have not been particularly well, the fact remains, Mildred, for her to ask that very specific question led me to suspect her behaviour. In Body Switching magic, at least, at the very basic level, one cannot undo one's own body's flaws. Agatha has very severe short-sightedness, as we discovered last time when she tried to act as Miss Cackle. Agatha appears to have used the Chameleon Spell – a spell which prevents others realising that they are seeing. Effectively, she will have her own glasses on but they appear to look like Phyllis's. As you know, merely changing an object to resemble something else is not easy and transformation does not always go according to plan, particularly when you have the mindset of Agatha Cackle. For her purposes, the Chameleon Spell would have been the most appropriate to use. Agatha probably believes that Phyllis's body is enough to avert suspicion. I have seen, but only for split seconds, what appear to be Agatha's very thick glasses on Phyllis. I cannot focus for long enough to say for certain. I was not fully convinced, however … until you were subjected to that potion."**_

_**"How did you know what –?" **_

_**"It is immaterial, Mildred," she answered quickly, noticing Mildred's face drop. "I'm sorry, Mildred, but this is not the time and place. You will forgive me when I say that it was fortunate that it was such a recognisable potion, in spite of the traumatic experience for you, as it allowed me to act quickly enough to counteract it and to … to prevent it's full effects. Now, Agatha may have copied the book, but she will have only copied the visible pages ..."**_

_**Mildred surveyed her, her face mystified.**_

_**"Mildred, your great-great-grandmother gained control of this Almanac from another person. This book is one of the most powerful in existence. The blank pages were enchanted into the book by her, and the enchantments they hold can only be accessed by a Witch of Purity – a trait of which only we now remain. They were enchanted into the book for the purpose of allowing another Witch of Purity to access the counter curses to the spells, incantations and potions within, should the book ever fall into malevolent hands. I have now placed a permanent block on the book. My safeguard to prevent the Xeroxico Duplicatis enchantment being performed was somehow bypassed by Agatha. Mildred, just because the book has been copied, it does not hold …" She trailed off and cleared her throat again. "The duplicate book will not retain the same power as the original. This book MUST be protected at all costs. There is already complex magic from me shielding the book, but it is not completely indestructible. This also now means no other copies of the Almanac can ever be created again, that includes the practice of physically copying out an enchantment, regardless of any action attempted. My … I …"**_

_**Constance stopped, not continuing the sentence. Taking a deep breath, she continued, exhaling slowly as she began to speak once more. **_

_**"And now only you can access what is required tomorrow. Provided you follow my directions, no ill-effects will occur with your use of the book. Agatha is more than likely planning to attack Miss Cackle and the school. You must enlist Maud, Enid and Ethel to help you suppress her magic. Even though she has, in principle, still contravened the Witches' Code, there are a great many bylaws within the Code, which allow perpetrators to circumvent the system, and, should her plan succeed, she may still be legally immune because she has used the body of another to infiltrate the castle. This, in turn, also means she has bypassed the barriers put in place after last time to gain access to Cackle's, as by using the body of another, the magical protections cannot recognise her. And now she is inside, I have discovered she has already removed the protections formally in place. I suspect, judging by the vacant faces of her pupils, that they are under entrancement, and I believe that Augusta Brothbottle and Deidre Swoop are her accomplices. I expect their original bodies have also been possessed, and likely by Agatha's usual sidekicks Bindweed and Coldstone. It is very apparent that Miss Cackle is now under entrancement herself – her allowance of the competition to go ahead is proof enough. I believe you were attacked as a diversion, using Fenella as a suitable pawn to convince you to take that potion, in order to disable me long enough to get Miss Cackle alone and place her under enchantment. She would never put your lives at risk like this, otherwise. And it is very possible Miss Drill and Miss Bat are also by now under some command. I suspect Agatha will spike the drinks throughout the day tomorrow in order to add the appropriate incantation to the ingested potion to control the girls later. I doubt she will try and control so many minds at once. A dual effect of the Domination is the ability to put the victim to sleep, and I imagine that is what she will do at some point. I do not think she will hurt the girls … I pray she will not hurt them. I cannot voice my concerns to anyone else, Mildred. Both Body Switching and Superior Psyche Domination are extremely dangerous. And …" Constance stopped again, closing her eyes.**_

_**Mildred watched silently for a moment.**_

_**Constance had gone very still, breathing slowly and with an element of concentration, as if she was trying to focus on staying calm … and conscious.**_

_**Mildred gingerly reached out with her hand and placed it on Constance's. Constance opened her eyes and withdrew her limb.**_

_**"I'm fine … thank you … Mildred …" She cleared her throat as if to reinforce the point. **_

_**"Agatha … Agatha will also have realised that there are, in fact, three stages to Body Switching magic. The first stage appears to be what she had performed, her accomplices, also. It is the simplest way: to merely take over their victim's basic appearance. But the longer a person has their body possessed, the worse the after-effects. Eventually, the victim will start to lose their own identity, and they will take on personality traits of the perpetrator. If the enchantment continues for too long the damage is irreversible. If, for example, Agatha had a limb missing, she could proceed to the second stage: a far more complex method which would enable her to fully control Phyllis's limbs, despite the imperfections of her own body. The third stage would be permanent."**_

_**"You … you mean she … she would die?" **_

_**Constance nodded, looking Mildred in the eyes. **_

_**"Phyllis's body would be utilised completely by Agatha, and Agatha's own body would hold Phyllis's. But … only one can remain alive. Because Agatha would be the instigator of the enchantment, Phyllis would be the sacrifice as the amount of magic involved would use the victim's energy force to finalise the full transformation. It is a risk we cannot take. Body Switching is not a mutual arrangement between two parties, Mildred – the enchantment is very much favourable to only one side … and there is also an additional catch. Superior Psyche Domination is equally as perilous. If anything is revealed to a person under her entrancement, then Agatha will be instantly aware of it. I cannot allow more lives to be placed in danger. God only knows what she would do if she knew we were aware of what she had planned. For Miss Drill's sake especially – even if she was not always entranced, she is not a witch and has no way of defending herself. I do not … I do not have to strength to protect more than one person. It is up to us. I am going to place a counter curse on you to prevent entrancement occurring. Tomorrow, as well as yourself, I want you to make sure that Maud, Enid and Ethel do not drink anything that Agatha places for them at the first interval as there is sure to be one. I shall endeavour to tamper with their beverages at lunchtime. Before you reveal to them my plans you MUST ask each a question from the past. If Agatha somehow manages to entrance them they will not be able to answer. She can only access their current minds and bodies, not deep memories."**_

_**"But … why can't you just stop her now?" Mildred was becoming more and more frightened. She could feel her heart beating faster and the prickling of tears building behind her eyes, and not for the first time that night.**_

_**Constance reached her hand out and placed it on Mildred's, looking at her with an almost pleading expression.**_

_**"Mildred, each time I use my magic I use up more energy. I have to conserve what strength I have left to duel against her. If I can stun her enough, I may be able to remove some of the safeguards she has in place and force her to transform back. But if this cannot be accomplished, then you must follow my instructions precisely to avoid a potentially devastating outcome. In recent weeks I have grown increasingly weaker. I … I do not know why …" **_

_**She withdrew her hand, looking away. **_

_**"There is no other way. Agatha is using Phyllis's body, Mildred. I cannot chance really hurting her." Constance stopped and looked at her pupil. "You are not quite following all of this, are you?"**_

_**Mildred sheepishly shook her head. **_

_**Constance drew a deep breath.**_

_**"I'm sorry, Mildred. You must be finding all of this so very difficult to comprehend. I shall try and make it simpler. When the Body Switching enchantment is applied, the perpetrator wears the victim's body like a person in a fancy dress costume. Agatha appears to have only used the basic stage, and that is why she still needs her own glasses. If Maud was to dress in a bear costume, she could still not see without her spectacles. And likewise, if I was to kick Maud through her costume, she would feel it. This is where it becomes more complicated, and where the enchantment's catch comes in: if the perpetrator is harmed, the victim's original body – the body inside the perpetrator's skin – is also hurt at the same time. I believe it was developed specifically like this as a way of preventing damage being incurred to the perpetrator, because it would be known that any attack would also simultaneously harm the victim. But if the victim's body was fatally injured, their life force would switch to the perpetrator, leaving the victim dead, and the perpetrator safely back in their own body. If Agatha is attacked, it will also cause Phyllis's body, and Phyllis, to be injured. It is ESSENTIAL she transforms back into her original self before any powerful enchantments against her are cast. Regardless of whether I could even manage to acquire further help in time, the fact remains until Agatha transforms back of her own free will we cannot touch her with any real force, nor can I myself remove Domination's effects from the victim once it is in place; only the person manipulating the enchantment in the first place can. This means I cannot release Miss Cackle from Agatha's influence. If Agatha was sufficiently injured – but not badly – her control would possibly falter. Ultimately, the ball is in Agatha's court, and she has the upper hand over us. As to whether she has managed to procure any of Phyllis's power in addition, I do not know. It is not part of Body Switching magic to gain power – it gains only a body, but if she has somehow additionally managed to operate Phyllis's power, too, then she has a very concentrated amount of magic at her disposal. Miss Cackle is also at very great risk, Mildred. The judges, I am quite certain, will have already been influenced, too. And Agatha will not have left Pentangle's liberated; they will certainly be in grave danger. The one benefit we have is the element of surprise. She will not have realised the book contains the counter curses, and that is our play."**_

_**Mildred leaned her head back against the wall, unable to take in everything she was hearing.**_

_**"But … what about the Chief Wizard. Can't you contact him? He must be able to help, surely?"**_

_**Constance sighed. "How do you suppose Agatha orchestrated the competition in the first place, Mildred?"**_

_**Mildred was about to reply but found she couldn't.**_

_**Constance nodded. "Precisely, Mildred. And we do not know how much he may still be under her influence. It is a risk that cannot be taken. Now, Mildred, if Agatha succeeds in using her weapon against Miss Cackle, there is only one known method to allow its safe extraction." Constance gently took Mildred's hand, opening the Almanac sitting on the bed between them both. She held Mildred's hand above it with hers on top. It continued to glow slightly even though neither of them was actually touching the paper. Constance closed her eyes briefly as the pages began to turn beneath, then, as if by an invisible force, the book halted abruptly. Constance drew Mildred's hand across the page.**_

_**Mildred's eyes fell to the enchantment's title:**_

_Gnilaeh Fo Noitanilcer Degnolorp_

_**Mildred looked at Constance questioningly. **_

_**"You will find it easier to remember as Comatosation. This combined potion and incantation effectively puts the victim into a magical coma, Mildred. If the Soul Dagger is left in said victim, they will die and their power will be absorbed by the Dagger then passed directly into the perpetrator. They do not need to literally remove the Dagger for the magic to be absorbed; it is automatic, a filter, if you like. If the Dagger is removed without the potion and incantation having been applied, then victim will die – that much is certain. And they must be alive when you perform the Comatosation. If they are too close to death, it may not take effect. They will sleep until such a time as their body is able to recover. Now, I have put together the things you will need tomorrow. The first is a combined potion, made from two separate draughts, one of which produces complete concealment of the drinkers to those who have not ingested the potion, and the other which renders them audible to only each other and no one else. Therefore, with its combined effect, you will be able to see and hear each other, but no one else can see or hear you."**_

_**Constance gave her a knowing look.**_

_**Mildred realised they were the very concoctions she had advised her and Ethel to create, remembering with a cringe her class's last encounter with one such type of potion, and the conversation which really should not have been heard by their form mistress. **_

_**Constance unexpectedly drew a deep breath and groaned slightly, raising her hand to her throat and unfastening the clasp of her dress at the collar, loosening its restrictive hold on her neck. She closed her eyes again as another, even stronger wave of severe dizziness pierced her skull. She leaned forwards a little, sensing her pupil watching her in ever-growing apprehension.**_

_**"I just need … a … minute …"**_

_**"Please … Miss, please, I really think you need to lie down … this can wai—"**_

_**"N-no … M-Mildred … it c-cannot … w-wait …"**_

_**Constance was obviously now struggling heavily to continue the task in hand, and she knew her weakening body was quickly reaching its breaking point. She took a very slow breath and opened her eyes: Mildred's form was jumping slightly in her vision. Constance shut them again, speaking with them closed.**_

_**"In my bedchamber and under my dressing table is a loose floorboard. Beneath it lies a Life Coffer, and it cannot be accessed without the correct spell." Constance took another deep breath. "If Agatha achieves her aim in using the Soul Dagger, you must use the contents of the box: an enchanted phial and the potion component of the Comatosation. You must drain the magic from the victim into the phial and put them under the Comatosation enchantment. It is the only way against it. If the victim still dies the Dagger and phial MUST still be destroyed to prevent Agatha acquiring it. Even though the magic is removed from the body, it is still possible to absorb it with the continued use of the Dagger."**_

_**Constance opened her eyes and straightened her back from its slightly hunched position and folded the corner of the Comatosation page over. She then turned a few more pages backwards to another enchantment. Mildred glanced at the strange words on the page:**_

_Yrecros Fo Noisulcerp_

_**"This enchantment is another combined potion and incantation. And … for the purposes of self-defence, it is the most appropriate to use. It was created with malevolence to protect the original owner of the Almanac, but you must understand, Mildred, that we have no choice but to enforce it. The p-potion … the potion on its own renders the victim powerless for as long as it takes the victim to override the suppressor from their body. The incantation does the same, but it is not as powerful or as long-lasting. However, the combination of both would result in Agatha being unable to use her magic – for good. But as we are unable to force her to ingest the potion, we can therefore only halt her temporarily with this. It can only be used on the real Agatha and she must transform before it is applied – I cannot stress this enough. If she does not release Phyllis's body, then the enchantment will affect Phyllis as well as Agatha. That could prove fatal as we simply do not know what state Pentangle's – or Phyllis – has been left in. Magic this powerful has a habit of backfiring and we cannot take that risk. For how long it works depends on Agatha's strength in regaining her magic. However, this action will still not prevent her absorbing the power from the victim, either through the Dagger or from the phial and Dagger combined if she was to gain control of them. But … it should be enough to stop her. After Ethel's duel, I want you make absolutely certain they are not entranced and explain to Maud, Enid and Ethel of my plan. You are to remain in your room until our duel. Do NOT go back down. I doubt very much that Miss Bat will notice your absence be her heavily entranced or not. You are all to wait until my signal to enter the Great Hall. You shall know when it is time. You will be invisible and inaudible. I have an Unblocking Spell for you to use against the doors as she is sure to lock them. If she uses any extra magic to seal the doors, rest assured, the spell I have given you will counteract it. Once inside, you must wait until she transforms back into her original self, and equally her accomplices, before you can cast the enchantments. Send Enid and Ethel to either side of them once the two have transformed back. I have a spell to freeze them – quite literally. The second Agatha transforms, recite the Noisulcerp Fo Yrecros together."**_

_**"But … how did? Wait … the … the words … you … you just said it differently to how it is written … How do I say them? I … I've never seen anything like it," Mildred said, more bewildered than ever.**_

_**Constance gave a small smile, having been counting on Mildred's exact response. She looked at her, eyes glistening.  
**_

_**"Let your soul guide you, Mildred. And read the book for what it is. You can see what has occurred, so you need to act accordingly. The pronunciation is not always the be all and end all in magic, Mildred. What was the first thing we taught you?"**_

_**"It's … it's not always the right words but the right feelings," Mildred said after a moment.**_

_**Constance nodded.**_

_**"So … so I treat it like any other book but the opposite?"**_

_**"Yes, Mildred. That is precisely what you do, and the rest will follow. Your power will show you the way."**_

_**"But … can't you … I mean, you're … What if you can't … Is there no other way?"**_

_**"No, Mildred. There is not. I want you to stand against the wall, Mildred, so I can put the protection spell on you."**_

_**Mildred appeared more than a little apprehensive. "What does it do?" **_

_**"It will prevent Agatha gaining authority over your mind. There are other ways to accomplish this than just spiked drinks, Mildred. And they are not pleasant," she finished quietly.**_

_**Mildred swallowed hard. She stood from the bed and walked to the wall opposite a few feet away, beside her wardrobe.**_

_**Constance folded the page corner like the other, turned and repositioned the book on her lap in front of her, placing her right hand above it. Mildred watched captivated as the pages turned by themselves. Stopping suddenly, another scribed enchantment appeared before her form mistress. **_

_**"Close your eyes, Mildred."**_

_**Mildred looked at her a second and obeyed.**_

_**Constance began to mutter words, alien words. Mildred felt a warm haze surround her. Her arms and legs tingled with tiny sparks of magic working their way up and around her body like hundreds of tiny money spiders crawling on her limbs. A heightening crackle of noise seemed to surround her hearing. Her body grew numb for a few moments, and her ears began to pop, reminiscent of flying too high, followed by a blast of white light erupting painlessly from her body.**_

_**Tabby, who had been sitting and watching from the corner, yelped and flew under the bed, quivering and petrified.**_

_**As the words ended, Mildred remained stationary for a minute, shaking her head slightly as her hearing cleared. She opened her eyes, immediately panic-stricken to see her form mistress on the corner end of her bed, her body almost doubled over, and fiercely hanging onto the bedstead. She was fighting for air and shaking uncontrollably.**_

_**"Miss …" Mildred flew over to the bed, pulling Constance upright and away from the edge.**_

_**Constance had barely moved her head to look at Mildred before she suddenly drew a raspy, sharp gasp, fearing with petrifying realisation that this was the moment her body couldn't take any more. Mildred glimpsed the look of utter despair in Constance's moist eyes a split second before her eyelids flickered closed. As deep, inky black darkness swathed her mind and body, her fading resistance was finally crushed.**_

_**Mildred let out a small scream as Constance fell completely limp, released a short breath and dropped back lifeless in her arms …**_

* * *

"Mildred … **Mildred**! Dear, wake up …" Amelia said loudly, tapping her shoulder gently.

Mildred opened her eyes. The sunlight was streaming through the blinds, reflecting brightly against the white walls.

"Mildred, you've been calling out in your sleep. Are you **all right**?"

Mildred took a deep breath and leaned well back into her chair, deliberately avoiding Amelia's eyes. She looked at Constance. She was still sleeping.

Amelia addressed her pupil. "Mildred, I …"

"I'm fine, Miss Cackle. Just a bad dream. I'm fine." Mildred took a full, calming breath as Herbert entered the room, retaking Constance's hand as she stirred a little.

"Good morning, ladies. Sleep well?"


	24. Chapter 24

**UPDATED: 1****ST**** JANUARY 2010**

**WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 24**

* * *

Morgana leaped gracefully onto the windowsill in Constance's bedroom. She lifted her ears, twitching them in small, delicate little movements, listening to the birdsong of the early morning through the thin leaded glass.

The sleek black cat yawned with a slight squeak, elongating her jaw and baring her sharp white teeth as she deftly lifted her right paw and began to wash it, grooming the fur smooth with her rough tongue, creating the only sound in the silent room.

_Nice to see her contented, _Imogen thought, smiling. She withdrew her head from the room, just as Morgana raised her gaze to the gap in the doorway.

* * *

"She's certainly having a good innings," Amelia commented, stretching and moving her chair as Herbert flicked through the most recent notes since his last look at Constance's chart.

"She should awaken soon – at least for a little while." Herbert smiled, watching Mildred stroking Constance's hand still. "Come on, you both ought to come and have some breakfast, especially you, madam," he pointed at Mildred, who turned her head and grinned.

"Just a few more minutes. Please."

Herbert nodded, beckoning Amelia to follow him.

Mildred turned back to Constance and smiled as she continued to caress her hand. She had become rather nervous about leaving her, even with the staff within summoning distance all the time. Mildred felt drawn to stay with her. She still didn't really know why, other than the obvious reason. She just knew Constance needed her, and she needed Constance, and that was that.

Constance fleetingly squeezed Mildred's fingers, blinking briefly, before turning her head to the side, stirring, as before, for only a split second. She drew a very slow, deep breath and released her grip as she drifted away once more …

_**"Not one word, you hear me? Nothing. You mention anything to anyone, you'll do more than faint, my girl. Is that clear?!"**_

_**Constance nodded timidly, head bowed and slightly trembling hands clasped together in front of her, starkly white against her black dress.**_

_**Minutes. It had taken only minutes of arriving at the Witch Training College for Constance to fully comprehend that her next journey in life was unlikely to be any less of a tribulation than the several years she had spent primarily with her other aunt. Now in Hecketty's complete care, her plight was truly real, and she knew the other twin would continue to make certain she was forever in the knowledge that she was under her control.**_

_**Constance had heard it said from a young age that twins always have a dominant of each pair, often the one born first. **_

_**Henbane was born only a few minutes earlier than Hecketty, but she did not gulp her first breath of air until her twin emerged. Like clockwork, both twins gasped in unison, almost as if one had waited for the other, leaving the doctors astonished, particularly as there seemed to be no lasting damage to the infant, and their parents certain that the two would never stand to be separated for long.**_

_**In life, they did everything with perfect synchronicity, as if they were one. Occasionally arguments ensued, as, being the same in practically every way, they each had a desire to be the head of the pair, but neither could outwit each other, and so they acted best as a team. **_

_**But then there was an occurrence. An occurrence which forced circumstances to change drastically for them. Hecketty's astute and calculating actions had given them a chance of reprieve. However, Henbane would soon become dependent on Hecketty for years to come. So as Hecketty rose to her position through the ranks at the Training College before, eventually, becoming a senior tutor there, Henbane remained in their acquired cottage, musing through the days, until one day, fate dealt them a card of opportunity, the likes of which they had never dreamed of.**_

_**Constance knew she could never persuade one to show compassion for her without the other's consent. They both hated her, and she knew this without a shadow of doubt. No matter how evilly they had treated her, the fact they did not, would not, show any affection for their own blood kin jolted Constance deep within her heart. Like a betrayed dog that still wags it tail, despite having been constantly neglected and beaten, Constance, for years, had always maintained some hope. **_

_**Constance's desire to live was not what had kept her spirit alive as time had passed; it was her craving for two things: eventual revenge and the chance of freedom. **_

_**But as time had elapsed, she had grown weary, fearing that she would never escape their clutches. That she would remain forever their caged bird, clipped of her wings. Her hope had long since faded, and left her merely existing, going through the motions of living, without any expectations of ever finding happiness. And suddenly there she was, a young lady at the Witch Training College, and about to embark on a further journey, but a journey, once again, governed by another. Constance knew of the College, but had never been. It was a talked-of place, but the information was from stolen conversations, not something she herself had been privy to in a direct address.**_

_**Constance had arrived, taxied, landing sharply with a jarring jerk as her aunt had stopped her broomstick authoritatively in the grounds of the ancient magical establishment. She had fallen wan the second she released her loathed grip of safety from around her aunt's waist. A bitterly cold, dizzying flight coupled with heavy, burdensome thoughts of what was pending pressed upon Constance like a block of ice. Her introduction to the facility had been delayed for almost two months, courtesy of provoked illness by the hands of her aunts. But now, her dawning plight was truly real. **_

_**Barely able to carry her small, tattered suitcase, a sudden helping hand had taken her by the arm and supported her as she teetered towards the entrance doors, obediently following Hecketty's menacing gait. **_

_**"Looks like you could use a cup of tea laced with half a bottle of whiskey. You look as fragile as a sparrow," the voice of the helping hand had whispered.**_

_**Constance's reply had barely reached her lips before she had slumped, overwhelmed by emotion and weakness, into a dead faint. The helper had grabbed her before she hit the ground and called out for assistance.**_

_**Hecketty knew only too well the voice of the helper in question, turning on her prim heels to view the sight behind her.**_

_**"Gaining attention already, are we?" Hecketty sneered under her breath, but cautiously, lest anyone hear.**_

_**Constance, having been placed gently on the gravelled path, was showing no signs of stirring. The redheaded helper kneeling beside her was stroking Constance's loose hair back from her clammy face while holding her wrist, intrigued by the young girl lying before her. **_

_**A small crowd had gathered, but Hecketty soon commanded them to disperse from the scene as she made her way over to the commotion.**_

_**"Gabriella Foxglove, I suggest you hurry along to your next class. I shall see to my niece, thank you. She has a very delicate constitution – no cause for alarm."**_

_**Gabriella glanced up at Hecketty, squinting a little as the strong wintry sunlight beamed down upon her, feeling less than convinced at her tutor's request. Hecketty seemed a little too eager to usher Gabriella away.**_

_**"With all due respect, Mistress Broomhead, I think she will require help once she comes round, and as she was carrying her case to begin with, I think, at the very least, I ought to stay to carry it in for her. And I think Dawn will be on her way, too. I sent Jenny to fetch her."**_

_**Hecketty took a slow breath: Gabriella Foxglove was already her least favourite student, but the best academic student in her year to date. She had achieved the highest grades possible all throughout her schooling before enrolling on her degree at the College, and the other tutors would not hear a word said against her. Hecketty knew she would be foolish to make a stance against a student – and a highly intelligent one at that – whose uncle additionally worked within the Federation's hierarchy.**_

_**"Very well, Miss Foxglove, then you may take her to your dormitory. I shall go and deal with Miss Hammersmith – no need to bother her unduly, she has only fainted. I also trust you have no objections if I have your current roommate relocated?"**_

_**Gabriella bit her inner cheek to stop her facial expression giving her away and managed to give an impassive smile.**_

_**"None at all, Mistress Broomhead."**_

_**Hecketty smirked and turned once more, walking away nonchalantly in the direction of the matron's office.**_

_**Gabriella turned her attention to the awakening figure before her. **_

_**"Shhh, take it easy. Just stay there for a minute." **_

_**Constance blinked several times, opening her eyes wide and staring at the dark, freckly face looking down at her, shadowed by the sunlight bobbing behind her head. **_

_**"Hello again. I hope you will be able to walk, because if I have to piggyback you, I guarantee you will need a crash helmet and travel sickness pill. It takes me all my time to walk a straight line and not have altercations with the doors."**_

_**Constance took in the sight of the girl above her. She was very pretty and elfin in build, as if she could sit upon a toadstool with a pair of golden wings batting behind her. Her hair was a stunning rusty shade of red, wavy in a tousled shoulder-length cut. More than petite, she was truly tiny, with elegant yet undersized hands and feet. She was colourfully dressed, in spite of the frosty weather, like a lone summer flower sitting in the middle of a murky wood – a considerable contrast to the deathly pale and darkly clad willowy figure lying on the ground.**_

_**"Come on, let's sit you up. You'll be fine. I'm used to this. My mother, bless her heart, could have made an occupation from fainting. I swear she'd never have survived so long in the olden days, what with the corsets, smells, sewers and cigar smoke – she'd have been in a permanent coma!"**_

_**Constance winced as Gabriella sat her up, raising her hand to the back of her neck.**_

_**"You're hurt! How did you ge—?" Gabriella suddenly stopped talking as an aforesaid piece of information re-entered her head. "Oh, God … Niece … You're that bitch's niece …"**_

_**Constance hesitated, glancing swiftly from side to side, before swallowing and nodding gingerly.**_

_**Gabriella opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, unsure what to say next as her mind began to pick up voices, images and flashes of bygone years. Instead, she held out her hand.**_

_**"I'm Gabriella Foxglove. Nutty as they come and your new roommate."**_

_**Constance blinked again and gradually extended her hand, still holding her neck with the other.**_

_**"So, can you walk? Or are we going to need a bucket?"**_

_**Constance gave a small smile as Gabriella giggled, placing an arm gently around Constance's shoulders.**_

_**Constance immediately stiffened, and Gabriella felt it. Gabriella bent her head forwards, her hair swinging in the breeze, catching Constance's gaze as she kept her extended arm lightly but firmly in place.**_

_**"Look, I don't know you – yet. And I don't fully know what kind of person you are, but you look like you could use a friend." Gabriella smiled.**_

_**Constance stared into her emerald-green eyes: for the first time in years, she relaxed enough to speak without automatically bracing herself for the repercussions from talking out of term.**_

_**"I'm … I'm Constance." **_

_**"Pleasure to meet you, Constance, even if you did keel over at the sight of me. Right, intros over, let's see if we can get you standing."**_

_**Gabriella helped Constance to her feet, not quite managing to keep her eyes off Constance's skeletal frame.**_

_**Constance made to bend and get her suitcase, lying sideways on the ground.**_

_**"Ahem, ahem! Don't you dare. Let me, I'm tougher than I look." Gabriella took the case in one hand, swung her own red satchel over her arm, and linked Constance's elbow with hers. She barely came up to Constance's shoulders, despite her heeled footwear. "Now, all we need is a pair of glittery ruby shoes, my pink gown and Toto."**_

_**Constance looked down at her, utterly mystified.**_

_**Gabriella chuckled. "Never mind. We'll get to the chorus of Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead later."**_

_**Gabriella guided her new roommate to their quarters, talking non-stop all the way. When they arrived, Hecketty was waiting outside, arms folded and tapping her foot impatiently. Gabriella was instructed to help her soon-to-be-departed roommate pack her things while Hecketty had a quiet word with her niece.**_

_**When Constance did enter the room, passing the leaving student, Gabriella had already made-up the bed freshly for her, as well as quickly cleaned up the mess left from the previous occupant. She was blowing smoke from the ends of her fingers as Constance closed the door behind her.**_

_**"Tea? My class can wait for a bit longer." Gabriella pointed to a small pine table with an electric kettle sitting on top, along with cups, teaspoons, jars of tea, coffee and cocoa, sachets of sugar, caffeine pills, tiny pots of UHT milk and several packets of rice crackers and raisins, all lined up neatly together.**_

_**"I'm a bit of tidy freak, I'm afraid. Hope that's okay with you. It annoyed Perpetua to death. You'd think she'd be grateful to have a roommate addicted to bleach!" Gabriella smiled.**_

_**Constance hesitated in the middle of the room, unsure what to do. What to say. Or how to act. This was the first proper interaction she had had with anyone for several years, other than her aunts. She looked around. It was a plain room, baring little in way of decoration, other than a few posters on the opposite wall and her roommate's personal items. It featured two single pine beds, two pine wardrobes, two pine bedside tables with two drawers a piece, two bedside lamps, two pine chairs slotted beneath two small pine lift-top desks, a wall-shelf each with a set of four pine drawers beneath and a single ceiling light. The flooring boasted dark wooden planks, varnished to a high shine, and the walls were smoothly plastered and painted white. The bedding consisted of white pillows, white sheets and black blankets, all straight and stiff-looking. And opposite the entrance was a wide window, the rail above supporting matching black curtains. Beneath the window was a large, imposing radiator, thickset and bulky in design, and painted black. Above the door was a bold, round wall clock, thickly rimmed in black. And finally, across the room diagonally from Constance's bed, virtually opposite Gabriella's bed, was a door leading into the en suite bathroom.**_

_**"Student accommodation. Cheap and not-so-cheerful. I tried sprucing it up but was 'informed' it was inappropriate. But I still put my posters back up!"**_

_**Constance drew her vision back to her roommate. She was becoming increasingly desperate to sit down and acclimatise to her new surroundings, as well as still suffering the lingering wooziness from her swoon, but her legs seemed to be frozen in place. **_

_**Gabriella sensed her unease, noting how her complexion was turning a shade lighter than before. She walked over to her and guided her towards her bed, placing herself down next to her.**_

_**"Listen, I've known Mistress Broomhead for nearly two months, and that's long enough for me to guess you can't have had a nice time of it."**_

_**Constance swallowed, feeling nauseous, her aunt's words ringing in her ears.**_

_**"And I'm guessing her little 'talk' was a formal warning for you to keep your mouth shut?"**_

_**Constance's eyebrows rose before she could even attempt to hide her surprise.**_

_**"Thought so. I think I should probably mention at this point I'm a little on the psychic side, but I try not to snoop unless I'm invited. Mum taught me how to switch my inner radar off; it's got me into trouble a few times when I've put my foot in things." **_

_**Constance continued to stare at her, still not really knowing what to say.**_

_**"So, what I'm getting at is, you don't have to worry around me. I am as straight as they come, and I am as you see me. No falsities. Just me. I don't lie, and I can keep a secret. I lost my mother just over two years ago to illness, having taken care of her from when I was really young. There was only ever me and Mum – oh – and Uncle Grayson, but he works away a lot, and somewhere I've an estranged aunt and younger cousin. Anyway, after Mum went, I finished at my academy – where Mum worked and lived at, well, until she was too ill to work, but we still lived there anyway as I grew up – and I was dithering between here and Weirdsister, but I chose this place as I had good enough results in my final exams to get in, and it has the best rep, despite certain tutors, plus, no boys here – well, the odd dishy tutor – but no idiotic junior wizards, so even better. So now I'm starting my teaching degree: five-year course and the subject options come in after two years, but I think it will end up being spells; I hate brewing potions, really. Oh, but don't tell them that! Mum told me to get into a profession where I'd always have a job, so it was either this or an undertaker! But whatever I choose, by twenty-three, I should be ready for the big wide world, though they may not be quite so ready for me." Gabriella grinned, laughing a little and doing her best to coax her new roommate into cracking a smile.**_

_**Constance studied her for a moment, trying to take in everything she had said.**_

_**"I also rarely shut up. You might have gathered that by now."**_

_**Constance gave a small smile. "I … I'm to be trained as a … a teacher, too."**_

_**"I figured as much. Which subject are you thinking of?"**_

_**"I … I'm not sure … whichever my … my aunt decides." **_

_**"Where did you study before coming here?"**_

_**Constance shook her head. "I er … I didn't. H-home t-tutored. I'm only sixteen. She put me in for early training."**_

_**Gabriella nodded. Despite herself, she was already homing in on a detailed – and horrifying – picture in her mind's eye of her new roommate's life. She quickly withdrew from probing, not wanting to pry any further for the time being.**_

_**"Ah, well, in which case, I get to play big sister! Bagsy the bathroom first on a morning, then!" **_

_**Constance smiled again, more so this time, growing a little more relaxed. She felt safer somehow, and, despite her instincts to the contrary upon meeting someone new and unknown, she felt she could trust Gabriella implicitly.**_

_**"What about your roommate? Won't you miss her?" Constance asked as Gabriella rose to turn off the boiling kettle.**_

_**"Actually," she said, turning to look back, "I could have kissed Broomhead for relocating Perpetua. At least now I can finally get a good night's sleep. You don't look like the snoring type!"**_

_**The pair burst into laughter, Constance's face displaying a truly happy smile.**_

_**The day Constance went to live with Hecketty at the Witch Training College, three things happened which would remain with her forever. **_

_**Constance met her first true friend. **_

_**Constance realised there was always hope, no matter how bleak the outlook.**_

_**And Constance began her plans …**_

* * *

"Morning …" Mildred's voice said gently.

Constance stirred for the third time and finally awoke, opening her eyes to Mildred's smiling face.

* * *

"Enid, what's bothering you? You've barely said a word since this morning." Maud surveyed Enid, watching as she rolled her spoon over her porridge, continuously smoothing it out into a creamy, flat layer and then messing it up again.

Maud glanced at Ethel, who shrugged her shoulders, feeling as confused as Maud. She lifted her head as she caught sight of the figure approaching their table.

"Hi, guys. What's up? Jadu was just saying that HB should be coming back soon. I mean, it would take an army to keep her away from here for much longer! Anything new?" Ruby asked brightly, trying to be as casual as possible and not let the three realise she was actively digging for information.

Maud, Enid and Ethel had been as thick as thieves since that Saturday, and Ruby, Jadu and Drusilla had formed into their own little group, finding the three impossible to converse with for more than a few words.

"Oh, er … nothing, everything's fine," Maud said, smiling so purposefully her jaw began to ache as she clenched her teeth into a forced grin.

Ruby looked each one in the eyes. "Well, something's going on – since when are you best friends with **Ethel Hallow**?" Ruby kept her eyes on Maud, expecting her to answer honestly out of the three of them.

Maud squirmed uncomfortably, glancing at Ethel and Enid.

Ruby stood her ground, figuring, as she had started, she may as well carry on pushing, knowing, of the three, Maud would be the likeliest candidate to break first. "And what else do you know about Mildred?"

"Since … since …"

Enid cut in over Maud. "Since we decided that at fifteen it was childish to continue petty little arguments any more. We're all nearly adults, so what's the point in fighting? And we know as much as you do, Ruby, so stop asking us stupid questions."

Jadu came up beside Ruby, just as Ruby snapped, "So much for friendship!"

Jadu noticed the tears which had formed in Ruby's eyes as she spoke, and watched as she turned away, brushing past her abruptly as she left the room.

As the diplomatic one of the usual group of friends, Jadu felt she should ask her question, and ask it politely, in a calm and controlled manner, and brought her attention back to the three.

"May I enquire what all that was about?"

"Nothing!" all three replied, undiplomatically.

* * *

"Have Fenella and Griselda decided what they are doing with the first-years today, Imogen?"

Davina leaned back into the flowery armchair, flexing her gloved fingers.

Imogen was standing by the staffroom window, staring out to the courtyard. "Supposedly going into the woods to pick up some extra supplies for a 'Potions and Spells Spectacular Display' they've been cooking up."

"I imagine Constance would have something to say about that." Davina stood up as she heard the amplified telephone ring and scurried off to Amelia's office to answer it. She came back several minutes later with an amused look on her face.

"That was Herbert. He said Amelia would be back at some point this afternoon, and that they were going to try and see how Constance did without oxygen in a little while. But, um, the reason for his call was to forewarn us that Algernon might be a little delayed. He spoke to him about twenty minutes ago using that funny walkie-talkie device they've got."

Imogen shrugged in puzzlement.

"Oh, apparently it's something Algernon and Herbert's father made when they were children so they could keep in touch. Herbert dug it out again after Algernon finally tracked him down. Anyway, Algernon and Egbert are currently stuck on the roof of Pentangle's, along with Phyllis, about ninety owls, the remaining pupils and a misguided cauldron of toffee something or other – I didn't catch the rest of it as Amelia sneezed in the background. Point is, Herbert said Algernon would explain later and not to worry if he didn't get back before lunch."

Imogen, wondering what precisely had occurred, pushed the thought away for the moment, concluding she had enough to think about.

"I still can't believe we didn't think of just buying a mobile and conjuring up a signal. I didn't even know it was possible. Algernon could have said something before the palaver with the telephone line!"

"Come to think of it," Davina said, rummaging for her knitting needles, "we could have easily charged one with Magilec, provided it was done only when necessary. It would have probably worked all right."

"Mind you, you have to admit, it was nice to see all those workmen digging for weeks on end," Imogen said, smirking.

Davina took her ball of bright yellow wool and looked up, grinning. "Especially when I cast the Thermal Charms around them. They definitely couldn't keep their shirts on in ninety degree heat. Unusual in winter, but they, um, didn't seem to object to you taking them fifteen cups of tea a day …"

"Yes … It was a shame about the frostbite … Although I think it was mainly the location that was the problem. I don't think I've ever seen Constance so visibly determined to not burst out laughing."

"Well, it was hardly **my** fault I completely forgot about the blasted heat rising! I was distracted. Damn Foster's!" Davina huffed.

"Weren't we all …" Imogen said dreamily. And what Serge didn't know couldn't hurt him!

* * *

"Are you still in here, lady? I **will** actually chain you to a drip if I have to, you know." Herbert chuckled as he walked into Constance's room, followed by Brenda and Charlotte.

"Oh, you've finally woke up, honey. We thought we'd leave you a bit longer this morning." Brenda smiled, walking over to the bed. "Think you're up to another hair wash in a bit?"

Mildred's eyes lit up. "That means **I **get to dry it for you …" She grinned at Constance.

Constance regarded Mildred, smiling the tiniest bit.

"I know, but it's a really cool charm – I never have to have wet hair again!"

Constance tutted softly.

"It's **not **trivial. You can catch cold from wet hair!" Mildred giggled, looking at her mildly disapproving expression.

Constance leaned her head back a little more into her pillow. The sedative they gave her last night was certainly powerful. She still felt excessively sleepy but much more refreshed.

"Come on, Mil. Amelia's having her shower. You can come back when Brenda and Charlotte have finished." Herbert smiled, knowing how busy the staff were.

Constance nodded to Mildred and shut her eyes, already feeling another wash of fatigue creeping its way upon her.

"It's almost nine o'clock now, so I will be back by ten," Mildred announced, folding her arms.

Constance opened her eyes, rolled and re-shut them.

Mildred grinned and left with Herbert, leaving the two nurses to sort their patient in peace.

* * *

Amelia was sitting at the small table in Herbert's apartment, drying her hair the traditional way – with a towel. She took her brush and began to comb it through her grey locks. She was thinking back to when she first met Constance. She put her brush down for a moment, rubbing her eyes absent-mindedly, gazing at the bristles as she yawned …

_**Amelia was forty-two at the time. Walking along the main corridor in the Witch Training College, she noticed a pale young woman sitting very straight on the second to last of a row of chairs, staring unblinkingly at the opposite wall. It was graduation day. Strange how she was sitting alone. Amelia had been assisting her younger brother to move into his new home at the College, about to embark what would prove to be his tragically short-lived tutoring career.**_

_**Amelia approached the pale young woman, who seemed to jump slightly as the plump older woman sat beside her.**_

_**"Hello. Have you just graduated?"**_

_**The pale woman turned her head to face her and nodded. She could not have been more than twenty-one. Her white skin emphasised her high cheekbones. Her dark hazel eyes were surrounded by shadows, and the whites of her eyes appeared vibrantly bright against her long black eyelashes. Her brunette hair was scraped into a compactly plaited bun – it was obviously very long. In her close-fitting black dress she looked extremely thin, almost emaciated. It covered her arms fully, up to her neck and down to her ankles.**_

_**Amelia questioned further, intrigued by her lack of emotion: surely she should be jumping for joy on the day of her graduation? **_

_**"Have you … have you done well?"**_

_**The young woman analysed her question and nodded again.**_

_**Amelia looked into her eyes: they were so dark one could almost fall into them. **_

_**"I am the headmistress of Cackle's Academy for Witches."**_

_**The young woman gave a flash of a smile and nodded again. **_

_**You're certainly hard work, Amelia thought. "What was your specialty?"**_

_**"Potions teacher," was the soft reply.**_

_**"Indeed. And were your results satisfactory?"**_

_**The young woman looked down.**_

_**"What were your results, if you don't mind my asking?" **_

_**"First-class honours," the young woman admitted quietly.**_

_**Amelia sat back slightly. She looked at the girl. She was very attractive. Beautiful, in fact. She seemed to have an aura of power about her. Amelia felt captivated by her; like she wanted to stare at her, examine her; she felt drawn to her like a magnet. Amelia couldn't explain it. It was as if she was being compelled by an unseen force to converse with her.**_

_**The young woman stood up to leave. She turned and flashed a small smile briefly at Amelia.**_

_**Amelia stood up. "Wait … I mean, um … Have you found a position yet, my dear?"**_

_**The young woman turned and stared at her, shaking her head.**_

_**"Would you like one?"**_

_**Her eyes widened at the question.**_

_**"Have you some references? And do you have family near by? My castle is some considerable distance from here."**_

_**Her head lowered. "I … I have no references. Nor do I have family."**_

_**Amelia stepped back and looked her up and down. She was very tall, quite forebodingly so. There was something about her. Unspecified. She couldn't put her finger on it. **_

_**"I … I have recently had my deputy of many years retire. My next deputy is only five years off from retirement herself. If you would like her position of potions mistress, I am offering it to you."**_

_**The young woman looked up at her sharply. Her face was expressionless. And yet, there was sadness there.**_

_**"You … you want me?"**_

_**"Yes … I believe I do. Very much so."**_

_**The young woman seemed to relax a little.**_

_**"What is your name?" Amelia asked kindly.**_

_**"Constance Roberta Anastasia Kate Hardbroom."**_

_**"What lovely names. Well then, Constance. I am Amelia Cackle. Just the two, I'm afraid."**_

_**Constance gave a small smile.**_

_**Amelia shook her fragile-looking hand, internally jolted by how cold it was to the touch, but she didn't let it show on her face.**_

_**"This is where I reside." **_

_**In Amelia's hand a piece of folded paper appeared: a small, thin brochure. On it was a black-and-white photocopied picture of the castle, and inside a short prospectus of the offerings to young witches. On the back was a flight plan. She handed it to her.**_

_**Constance looked at her, glassy-eyed, with a smile of gratitude upon her face. **_

_**Amelia smiled back. "Term starts six weeks today. I presume you will be coming sooner, though? My brother is starting his new position here this coming term, but has come somewhat early to 'find his bearings' about the place, which, to be honest, translates as finding the best places to go out and about to during free time." Amelia chuckled.**_

_**Constance gave a small nod.**_

_**Amelia smiled, feeling the same odd sensation as a few minutes ago, only this time, she felt safe to leave, as if her job was done. Patting Constance's hand, she turned to walk away. **_

_**Constance did not move for a few seconds. She simply stood, feeling her heart palpitating from the adrenaline flowing through her veins.**_

_**As Amelia continued to walk towards the exit, she turned her head around and watched her new employee vanish into thin air. Taken aback slightly, she smiled again, releasing a satisfied sigh. She didn't really know how or why it had happened, or who or what had guided her, but she felt at ease. No references were needed; not really; Amelia was quite certain of her abilities. For whatever the reasoning behind it, it mattered not. She knew she had just hired a truly magnificent witch …**_

* * *

Amelia snapped out of her memory flash as Herbert and Mildred came through the door, having virtually dropped off into a light doze. She picked up her brush again and continued where she left off, clearing her throat and straightening from her slouch.

Herbert held the door back, taking hold of a breakfast trolley brought up by an orderly and pulling it through.

"Thanks, Gus. Put it on my tab!"

Gus chuckled as Herbert closed the door behind him.

Herbert pushed the trolley towards Amelia as Mildred picked up her rucksack and headed for the bathroom, mouthing her thanks to Amelia for bringing her more clothing.

Amelia smiled at her and turned to Herbert. She waited until she heard the shower switch on before addressing him.

"Has Mildred said anything else?"

Herbert glanced up from taking the toast, boiled eggs and various other bits from the lower level of the trolley and sat onto the bed beside the table. "No, nothing distinctive. Constance is certainly having vivid dreams, though. I don't think any of us have ever seen such a radical change in someone's heartbeat and blood pressure from simply dreaming – even nightmares. It's not very often one actually faints in a panic attack, either, although it does happen on occasion. Most times the patient calms down long before that occurs. She must have been extremely frightened. I have only ever had one other patient have panic attacks that severe. The poor girl had a horrendous illness, nausea almost continuously amongst about thirty other symptoms virtually non-stop. And unfortunately – just to make matters even worse – she was petrified of actually vomiting and would often pass out as she would hyperventilate so much because she felt so ill. There was barely anything we could do for her."

Amelia looked back at him and picked up a piece of toast, wondering if she still fancied it. "Constance has never been what you would call 'open'. From day one she was fairly clandestine. Trying to have a personal conversation with her is like attempting to put ice into a fire without it melting. As time went by she became more stern and vocal than when I first hired her. And she has always been straight-backed. Practically every pupil to set foot in Cackle's once she arrived was petrified of her, especially by the middle of the second term. The older girls even warn each new year group not to get on the wrong side of her. She doesn't really need to shout that often, either; her eyes usually do all the work. She has always been very fair, though … albeit declaring Mildred the worst witch in the school in her first month at Cackle's."

Herbert raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"Oh, yes." Amelia nodded convincingly. "Up until these last few weeks you could say they had a rather testing relationship."

"Well … you've certainly surprised me there, after everything I've seen between them." Herbert let out a huff of breath in amazement.

"How long do you think before she can be moved from ICU?"

"Probably in a day or so. Our high dependency unit is closed at the moment, having needed a bit of a refurbishment – remember what I said about fires in buildings? Suffice it to say the perpetrator in now serving at Her Majesty's pleasure. We felt it safer to keep Constance where she is for now, as, between ICU and a normal ward, the former is safer considering the circumstances a few days ago."

Herbert noticed Amelia shudder slightly. He cursed internally, stopped buttering his toast and looked at her directly, feeling the need to convey the positive side of things and reassure her, being as he had inadvertently reminded her of what might have been.

"She is still quite poorly, Amelia, and very weak, but she **is** improving, there is no doubt about that. I won't pretend she has not been incredibly ill, but she is stable and picking up. You know I cannot guarantee anything – none of us can. But given the battles she has overcome thus far, I can safely say she is a fighter. Indeed, a fighter with strength the likes of which I have never before witnessed. It is just a case of waiting, watching and letting her recover at her own pace. We will likely restart the physiotherapy again tomorrow or the day after, as she cannot be left immobile for too long, but in my experience, baring in mind this was no ordinary coma, she will benefit from a decent rest, particularly given her usual habits. And it isn't as though she isn't moving at all; the nurses help her move throughout the day when they attend to her. The most important thing is to make sure she doesn't relapse, as regardless of the poisoning I don't think she was overly well to begin with, frankly. We are also going to try and get her eating a little later today, I think."

Amelia and Herbert set about having some breakfast, both silently contemplating for a few minutes.

Amelia cleared her throat. "She … I would never have thought she could … that someone could get so close to her. It's as if Mildred is related to her or something."

"They certainly seem to be attached to one another. Mildred's reactions to her and hers to Mildred are enough to confirm that. The first time I met her … well, I got the distinct impression she preferred to keep herself as private as possible … Yet, in a strange way, it was almost as if she wanted to talk but couldn't get it out. Maybe Mildred is the key to that now," Herbert finished, placing a spoonful of yolk in his mouth.

Herbert sighed inwardly. He might be Amelia's friend, but he was also Constance's doctor. And as much as he wished he could discuss his patient further, partly for his own personal queries as to her welfare, he could only ask, and give, so much. He had many more questions bubbling away; questions about things which still made no sense to him, nor his colleagues. But they could wait for a more appropriate time.

"Yes … I have tried a number of times to initiate a general chitchat. She would always find a way to change the subject. Imogen and Davina also tried. Davina especially, at least initially. She and I have worked together for a long, long time, and she was already at Cackle's when I employed Constance. I think Constance was immediately bemused at Davina's quirky little ways, but, as I said before, when Constance was ill that time, Davina never left her side. Davina once told me she had a feeling Constance was deep down completely different, in spite of the spats they have had. And believe me they have had some squabbles. Davina was sure that she put on a front to keep us out. I think it's fair to say that Constance probably has no idea how very much she means to us all. Perhaps we should have made a more forceful point of telling her."

"There's time now. Life and death experiences make people think, Amelia. Goodness knows how many times I've seen the difference it makes to people, and especially the patient," Herbert said knowingly.

"But … I always assumed the black dresses were because she was simply old-fashioned." Amelia shuddered again. "I … I would never have considered the possibility they were covering … her … her …"

Herbert coughed.

Just then, Mildred popped back out of the bathroom, placing her bag down and pulling out her brush. She walked over to the table, her fingers making a very obvious flick of sparks drying her hair.

Amelia smiled.

"It's a good job the sparks don't affect oxygen …" Mildred said thoughtfully.

"Thankfully, it's a different kind of, ah, ignition. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'd have blown up half the hospital by now given my rather hopeless attempts!" Herbert chuckled.

Mildred giggled, taking a slice of toast.

"You know, you could always try charging the girls for that service, Mildred," Herbert suggested.

Amelia looked at him, less than amused.

Herbert casually reached for another boiled egg. "What?"

* * *

"I suppose I'd best go and see how Fenella and Griselda are doing. They've gone very quiet out there, don't you think?"

"Hmm …"

Imogen observed the older woman, sitting busy in her chair, oblivious to clock signalling the hour and the fact she was supposed to be heading off and supervising the other girls.

"Davina, I know I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure my grandmother only ever used three needles to knit socks … not six …"

"Oh, but don't you see, Imogen – I can do it in double the time!"

Imogen lifted her hand to her face and bowed her head into her palm.

* * *

Morgana was wandering along the hallway corridor, stomach full from her morning meal. She suddenly stopped in the centre of the floor, tail on end and ears flattened back. Hissing, with her fur spiking upwards, she flew like a streak of lightning up the staircase, racing back to her mistress's bedroom. She let out a yelp and dived under Constance's bed, preparing herself for the coming storm.


	25. Chapter 25

***NCD waves hello, hands out packs of Kleenex Balsam (just in case) and apologises profusely for the delay … yet again …***

Well, the time has come … This chapter I consider my most 'harrowing' to date (and longest *grins*), but it is integral to the storyline and the writer must go where their pen (or, in my case, keyboard) takes them. It is really two chapters in one (oh, you lucky people!), but, to be honest, I think it will utterly ruin it to split them, and I would rather you had the full atmosphere intended for this chapter.

(Of course, double-length reviews would also be highly appreciated. :D)

For the record, I utterly adore Constance Hardbroom, **despite** all the current evidence to the contrary, lol. Trust me when I say all is not what it seems …

I do intend to try and speed up with the posting of chapters from now onwards, but I can make no promises as life's difficulties frequently interrupt my plans. Because of this, I try very hard indeed to make them worth waiting for.

However, rest assured, it **will **be completed, and there **is** a sequel coming …

**Appearances Can Be Deceptive ***insert dramatic music here and rumble of thunder* **is only the beginning **…

My very grateful thanks, as always, to my loyal readers and reviewers. *blows kisses and points to cake stand in corner (and carrot sticks for P. Sammi)*

* * *

**UPDATED: 31ST JANUARY 2010**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. MODERATE VIOLENCE INVOLVED. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 25**

* * *

Constance lay looking up at the ceiling, a strange feeling creeping upon her as the room grew darker. The blinds turned dull as the sunlight became shielded by ominous black clouds spreading across the sky.

She felt anxious, uneasy. One half of her wanted to run from the room and find a place to hide and collect her thoughts; a place where she could not be found or looked at. Yet the other half wanted someone; the same someone who had guarded her side at every available opportunity.

She was alone in her room again, but this wasn't unusual. She had been alone, albeit not for long, many times throughout the past several days. The staff, she knew, were always around; she was never truly without anyone. But now she was consciously aware of it, and it was unnerving her.

She was still unable to recollect much from her time spent fully unconscious: voices, strange noises, the sensation of being touched yet unable to protest or respond re-entered her head from time to time, but not with enough clarity to frighten her. There were other things doing that quite well on their own without the need to add her comatose experience to them, and for that absence of memory, she was very grateful.

She shifted slightly, trying to prop herself up a little more. At one time in her life, she would have relished the silence, revelled in having time to herself. It gave her the chance to think about anything and everything. But thinking clearly right now was virtually impossible. Her mind was still so hazy, her memories distorted, muddled and intertwined with each other. Her routine was surreal and time passed her by, leaving her confused and disorientated. She couldn't explain why she was suddenly feeling the way she did; it was not how she had expected to feel because, in truth, she had not expected the present outcome. It was as if she had hit a brick wall, and couldn't go any further in her pretence or subconscious denial. She felt numb, changed. Nothing felt the same any more, nor, she knew, would it ever be the same again.

Constance turned her head to look at the clock: Mildred and Amelia were still with Herbert, she presumed. She found herself watching the second hand, wondering how long they would be. Mildred had said she'd be back by ten; that time had come and gone. Constance's morning attendance had been completed but half an hour ago, and she had not been by herself for long, yet it had taken her only minutes to switch from craving concealment and isolation to the now-familiar feeling of near-constant contact.

She began thinking of Cackle's, of Amelia, her colleagues, her pupils, and then, before she could stop them, her cumbersome thoughts, filled with trepidation about Mildred's future, were projected to the fore of her mind. And no matter how much she tried to reject them, they stayed firm, enveloping her senses and pressing upon her consciousness with suffocating intensity.

Constance and Mildred had not really spoken properly since that Friday night. Their communication was mainly by expressions, the occasional exchanged word, or simply Mildred's comforting grip; a closeness neither would have believed achievable as little as only a few weeks ago. It was now more than a relationship. They had bonded, unified by a connection only they could understand.

Even speaking a single sentence was still so draining and, for Constance, the inability to speak properly was a saving grace. Her frequent need for sleep was delaying the inevitable. For once she started, would she be able to stop? Could she contain her emotions like she had done for so many years? How much longer could she block them out? Prevent Mildred out from delving so deep it was beyond repair? And would Mildred be able to deal with the repercussions when that time came, especially after she had endured such trauma before now?

Suddenly, Constance's chest felt uncomfortably hot; her throat taut and dry. She wanted to break down so desperately, to completely let go of her frustration and turmoil, without any reservations or fears of the consequences from losing control. She wanted to scream; to scream until she was no longer aware of the stark reality of the present and future circumstances increasingly tapping away at her mind.

She started to take deep breaths, aware her heartbeat was speeding up; the equipment attached to her body was already signalling her building distress. But, equally, her body was simultaneously slowing down, warning her of another impending episode of overpowering slumber. Her light-headedness had returned, and the heaviness of her limbs, the burning of her eyes and the clouding of her mind were pulling her away from her surroundings. She knew it was coming, and she knew she could not halt its effects.

Always on alert, footsteps were instantly on the approach to Constance's room. Brenda came through the door and moved beside her, observing the monitor's screen and talking to her patient as she recorded the necessary information on her chart.

Constance started to listen, but never heard the remainder of her question.

Brenda gently patted her patient's hand, smiling, satisfied as her heartbeat began to lose speed as Constance's eyelids fluttered closed. As Brenda left the room, she paused as she heard a slight spike in the audible rhythm, but then it calmed, reverting to its former rate. She let the door swing quietly shut behind her, intending to check back shortly, just as a low rumble of thunder outside signalled a looming tempest. Rain began to batter the windows, the wind began to howl, and, as a strike of lightning flashed into the room, Constance's left hand grasped her loose blanket, as if her unconscious mind was preparing itself for what was about to follow …

_**"Well? Do I have to ask you a third time? Exactly which part of the question are you finding difficult to comprehend? Do as you are instructed, girl!" Hecketty Broomhead was standing in front of Gabriella Foxglove's desk, gratingly drumming her fingernails upon the shiny wooden surface, impatiently waiting for her student's response.**_

_**Gabriella, who had been virtually motionless in her place, gingerly raised her trembling hand and muttered a few words under her breath, but nothing happened. She let out a small squeal as an ugly, hissing scorpion moved towards her.**_

_**"Do it again, girl!"**_

_**Gabriella tried again in vain to cast a suitable spell, her chest starting to heave as her sense of panic rose.**_

_**"Stop it! Can't you see how petrified she is?" Constance's voice was pleading: her best friend was wide-eyed and visibly shaking from head to toe, and her aunt was enjoying every minute of it.**_

_**"For the second time, that is enough! It is not real. It cannot harm her. She has to learn!" Hecketty stood back from Gabriella's desk, folding her arms. In her prim black dress she looked even more imposing against a backdrop of white, cold-looking plastered walls.**_

_**"Please, Mistress Broomhead, let me change it into something else for her. How can she learn if she is so scared she cannot concentrate?"**_

_**"Do not presume to question my judgement, Miss Hardbroom. When I wish for your opinion, rest assured, I shall ask for it!"**_

_**Gabriella suddenly screamed and scraped her chair back away from her desk. The yellow, fierce-looking arachnid was edging along the rim of her table, pricking the air with its stinging tail. **_

_**Constance, unable to watch her pain any longer, muttered a series of words under her breath: the scorpion created by the previous student disappeared to reveal an exquisitely majestic bird of paradise in its place.**_

_**The room erupted in resounding applause – no other student had managed anything as ostentatious.**_

_**"SILENCE!" Hecketty screeched. The applause halted at once. Hecketty walked past Gabriella's desk and flicked her wrist: the bird vanished from its place, leaving a lone colourful feather behind. Hecketty cursed under her breath and blasted the lingering plume with a shot of brilliant blue light.**_

_**Constance swallowed, unable to stop herself shuddering as her aunt neared her. Her wording had been rash and hurried, and she had not meant to conjure such an extravagant creature, but it was too late now. **_

_**Hecketty stopped behind Constance's chair. Constance could feel her aunt breathing down her neck in growing fury.**_

_**Constance glanced to her left side, espying Gabriella clutching her chest still, tears of guilt forming in her eyes as she realised the consequences of Constance's actions would be imminent.**_

_**Constance managed to give her a small smile, mouthing to her it would be all right.**_

_**"Class dismissed. You will remain, Constance. I would like a word about your … assistance …"**_

_**Constance's heart gave a jolt as the scraping of the chairs, rustling of hurriedly tidied papers and pens and bags being gathered up hit her ears. **_

_**"That means you, too, Miss Foxglove. Miss Hardbroom is perfectly capable of finding her own way to lunch."**_

_**Constance's classmates left the room, some looking towards Constance with sympathy, others whispering to one another. Constance could sense Gabriella waiting for her at the door.**_

_**Gabriella's phobic height of panic over her most feared creature was still apparent, but more so was her apprehension of Constance's punishment.**_

_**"I said OUT!" Hecketty shrieked, raising a pointed finger.**_

_**Constance put her arm down beside her right and waved her hand backwards, beckoning Gabriella to go before she made the situation worse. She heard Hecketty walk over and close the door in Gabriella's face, warning her to leave before she put her on report.**_

_**"She really is the most irritating girl. I believe I am somewhat regretting my ill-judged decision to locate you with her … Perhaps I wrongly deemed it … safer … to put you with someone; we didn't want you becoming too isolated, after all. Loneliness can be a killer …" **_

_**Constance inhaled deeply as Hecketty's light, creeping footsteps neared. She became aware of her foul breath behind her neck once more, bracing herself as she heard familiar words being whispered into the air surrounding them, words which stopped moments after the room's windows became covered in black, controlled by a wave of the elder witch's hand.**_

_**Hecketty placed her hand on Constance's shoulder, and then abruptly snatched her right wrist and bent it with intent behind her back. Constance whimpered in pain as she felt her wrist turn in the wrong direction. As her bone snapped, she made to scream, but no sound emerged. She flopped forwards slightly, eyes watering and wooziness overwhelming her as Hecketty released her grip. Constance pulled her arm back to her front, the swelling already rapidly developing.**_

_**"Best go to the infirmary and get that seen to, dear. You can't possibly go out tonight with Miss Foxglove now you have an injury to nurse," Hecketty advised, a sickeningly false concern about her voice. She strolled about the room, replacing the untidy chairs beneath the fifteen singular oak lift-top desks of the classroom and manually lifting the closed black blinds of the dim room, watching and waiting to see if her niece reacted the way she usually did.**_

_**Constance tried to stand, her trembling left arm unable to support her as she grasped the edge of her desk. She dropped back down onto her seat, desperately trying not to pass out as the excessive throbbing from her wrist flowed throughout her body.**_

_**"I don't think I have ever known such a weak-willed, detestable creature such as you are," her aunt sneered, sitting herself at her own large desk at the back of the room in front of the blackboard. "Your mother was just the same – always fainting at the slightest hint of pain, but even she never broke your record … well, at least not when my dear sister and I last saw her. But then, she didn't last that long, really." Hecketty chuckled under her breath, smiling and baring her yellow teeth. "Oh, how sad for you. And you were so like her, too. Just as fragile. Just as … pathetic. And now you're willing to suffer for your little friend. How long have you known her? Seven months? And yet you leap to her defence every time … You've formed too close a friendship for my liking, personally …"**_

_**Constance slowly raised her head, glaring with intent at Hecketty, an unsaid but understood threat flashing across her blood-shot eyes.**_

_**Hecketty pretended not to notice, reaching for a roughly bound book from a pile sitting on the top of her impeccably ordered desk. She licked her finger and opened the first page, sighing casually and leaning back in her leather-cushioned chair.**_

_**"I suppose, for now, you may stay with your little roommate. But be under no illusion, Constance: another stunt like that, I shall make certain you are relocated."**_

_**Constance swallowed and stood up slowly from her chair, reaching for her black leather satchel with her left hand and sitting it on her desk. She fumbled with the opening, placing her own few items into it, while she held her right across her waist, resting it against her body. She swung the bag over her left shoulder, wincing.**_

_**"Just think, a little over a year to go before we start our private tutorials together. Won't that be a delight for us? And you've been doing so well thus far, especially when you consider the short length of time you've been practicing your magic unsupervised."**_

_**Constance walked steadily over to the door, opening and closing it very quietly behind her as she teetered through. **_

_**Gabriella was outside, along with several other people in close proximity. Most would have been making their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Constance mentally counted down; she could virtually guarantee how long it would take. On her last count, they unfroze from their statue-like states. Some appeared slightly startled, others carrying on nonchalantly, like time had never even stood still.**_

_**Gabriella, of course, had been waiting for her. She blinked several times, like she always did, removing the momentary fogginess from her mind. **_

_**Constance stumbled slightly against the wall, instantly drawing Gabriella's attention directly to her contrastingly colourless face and colour-filled wrist. Gabriella gasped in shock and revulsion, hurriedly wrapping both her arms around Constance's upper body and cautiously walking her to the matron's day office, almost fully supporting her best friend's now-shaking form, muttering continual half-choked apologies under her breath.**_

_**As they entered the small white room, Constance gipped. The matron glanced at the doorway and shot up from her desk chair, sending the pile of papers in front of her flying to the floor as she moved, knocking over her pencil holder with a grating clatter, and quickly sat the swaying form of Constance down on the undersized first-aid bed, feeling the pulse of her left hand, utter appal on her face. **_

_**"How did it happen THIS time?"**_

_**Gabriella raised an eyebrow, sniffing and pushing her rusty hair back across her head.**_

_**"Oh," she breathed in recognition. "Come on, lie down on here. I'll fix it up in no time."**_

_**Constance allowed herself to be pushed further onto the small bed, the matron lifting her legs upon the mattress fully as Gabriella unhooked Constance's bag from her shoulder. Gipping back another wave of nausea, Constance closed her eyes against the luminous ceiling light.**_

_**Gabriella knelt beside her, taking her left hand. Constance snatched it away.**_

_**"You can't help me any more. She will really come after you if you do – she's not the type to just forget about things." Constance turned her head to the opposite side, tears leaking from her eyes.**_

_**Gabriella stood back up, looking at the matron. The matron shrugged, and then knelt down to Constance and carefully took her right arm.**_

_**"Why the hell can't they stop the sadistic bitch?" she murmured under her breath, examining the damage. She muttered a series of words: Constance felt her bone relocate back into place. The pain relief was gone as quickly as it had arrived, but the joint still remained swollen. It felt as if rats were gnawing at her bones, and the grating sensation was pulsating along her entire arm.**_

_**"Same reason no one ever reports her, Dawn: she terrifies everyone here, she owns two-thirds of the building, the staff owe her their jobs, and she saved the Guild and Federation hundreds of thousands of pounds and earns them a nice, chunky yearly bonus – can't see them believing it, somehow." Gabriella sighed, wishing her Uncle Grayson was still alive; he would have helped them.**_

_**"Constance, you really need to gain some weight, sweetheart. I know you are still suffering the effects of that potion, but unless you eat properly your body will soon be unable to function at all," Dawn said caringly, her pale face showing her deepening concern as she remembered with a shudder how she had tended her for almost two weeks a couple of months back. Constance had 'accidentally' taken a wrongly produced potion. Dawn knew full well Hecketty was behind it. Constance's weight at the time had dropped so low, Dawn was convinced Constance was on the verge of serious damage occurring. Hecketty had staunchly refused to move her from the College's infirmary to a proper hospital, saying it was merely a question of Constance 'pulling herself together' and the sickness would soon subside. Not a single one of Dawn's usual remedies had worked on Constance, and nor had the College's other matrons' attempts to help her.**_

_**Gabriella knelt back down. "You've got another four years until you graduate, and you are crazy if you think I'm going to let you do it alone. I'm here to get you through it whether you like it or not. I swear I will," she said soothingly. **_

_**Constance's aunt had left her alone for the sum total of three months, and then it started. Small, seemingly blameless 'accidents' had occurred. Not too often – Hecketty was very careful – but often enough to keep Constance under her complete control. Gabriella had once tried to force Hecketty to punish her instead, and Constance had paid double the price.**_

_**"You need her, Constance," Dawn said gently, turning to get a wrist splint from one of the drawers of the compacted room.**_

_**Constance turned her head back. Gabriella retook her hand, stroking Constance's loose hair. Constance bit down on hard on her lip as her aching wrist was bandaged up …**_

* * *

"Is she still asleep?" Amelia whispered, entering Constance's room.

Mildred had entered a few minutes earlier. She was leaning over Constance and gently brushing her fingers against Constance's hair, shushing ever so softly through her teeth.

Constance's heart was beating fairly quickly and her eyelids flickering with small, rapid movements.

"Shhh … Don't let them in. Just sleep. I'm right beside you. No one can hurt you now. Just sleep. Shhh …"

Constance seemed to calm slightly. She moved her head, turning to the left.

Mildred sat back down. Amelia pulled her restacked chair from the corner and seated herself at the opposite side just as Charlotte came in.

"Is she dreaming again?"

Mildred nodded, jumping as a roaring crash of thunder sent a shudder down her spine.

Charlotte sidled between Amelia and the monitor, checking Constance's attachments over before making several notes on her chart from the screen's continuous recordings.

"Brenda said she'd been a bit tachy earlier. We've got a critical due in in a few minutes, but I'll be back soon; the system will let us know if it gets any worse, but you can still call for one of us if you are worried." Charlotte smiled, putting the chart back.

Amelia mouthed her thanks and smiled as she left. She then turned to look at Mildred, her expression changing from grateful and calm to tense and fearful.

Herbert joined them a few minutes later. He lifted out a chair for himself, taking Constance's chart, glancing up every now and again, looking at both Constance and the two women nervously watching her …

_**Gabriella yawned as she sat up and stretched, looking at her bedside alarm clock and raising her eyebrows at the time – good job it was a Sunday!**_

_**"Goodness, that was some sleep. I was out the second my head hit the pillow!" She turned to look over at Constance's bed. "Aren't you up yet, sleepyhead?" Gabriella glanced at the large clock on the wall above the door, wondering why Hecketty felt it necessary to put clocks in every single room in the building, including the bathrooms. Gabriella barely paid attention to the glaring monstrosity, preferring to use her own device. **_

_**Hecketty had been advised by the remaining shareholders not to run the College with too much military precision, lest she antagonise the attendees, and staff, and therefore she had allowed the students to set their own morning wake-up calls, but it had not stopped her reminding each and every one of them how precious time was whenever possible.**_

_**Gabriella pulled on her dressing gown and slippers, rubbing her eyes. As she was doing so, the last dregs of an unexpected blend in her system faded away, and she suddenly felt extremely sick, remembering instantly what had happened. She ran across the room to Constance's bed and let out a scream as she pulled the covers off her best friend.**_

_**Constance was lying on her back, still and silent. On her neck was a small red spider, its pincers clamping the skin just beneath her trachea. Constance was almost fully blue in colour. Her eyes were partially open and her body stiff and ice-cold, with no visible respiration. The only signs of life were the glistening streaks of tears running down from the outer corners of her eyes.**_

_**Gabriella frantically shifted to her side of the room and lifted the lid of her desk, flinging the items from the top in the process. She rummaged around before pulling out a magnifying glass and flying back to Constance's bed. Shaking, both from fear of the creature and the condition of Constance, she held the instrument above and looked closer. Breathing as slowly as she could, she pulled back a little, focusing the lens and examining the purple markings on its half-visible pincers and legs. Her eyes widened as she recognised the species. She flew from the room, dropping the magnifying glass in her haste.**_

_**Within minutes, Dawn arrived back with her, carrying a large silver case in one hand and a tiny glass bottle in the other. Her curly chestnut hair was clipped up messily, having been midway through a change of clothing and tidy up, following an incident with another student, and her flustered face was lined with consternation.**_

_**"How the bloody hell did one escape?" The alarm in her voice was obvious, although she was trying not to let it show behind her eyes. She forced a relaxed expression, inwardly uneasy. "Constance, I know you can hear me. You're going to be fine, sweetheart. I'm going to give you the remedy."**_

_**Gabriella had placed herself at the other side of Constance's bed, ready to help once the remedy kicked in. **_

_**"At least we have something for this," Dawn muttered under her breath, opening the case on the end of Constance's bed. She removed a pair of sterile gloves and put them on before sifting through the various well-stocked compartments and taking a sealed piece of gauze, a couple of sealed alcohol wipes and a pair of clamping tweezers.**_

_**"Gab, grab that plastic jar from the left-hand side compartment and open it up."**_

_**Gabriella did as instructed, taking a tiny specimen pot and shakily preparing to re-screw it shut as fast as possible when prompted.**_

_**Dawn took the tweezers and gently lifted the spider from Constance's neck, squeezing its middle to make it release its grip. She put into the awaiting container, watching as Gabriella fastened the lid on with all her strength.**_

_**Gabriella shuddered as she put the container on Constance's desk, climbing back onto the bed and taking Constance's rigid, icy hand.**_

_**Dawn opened a wipe and cleaned the punctured area, unwrapping and resting the gauze square on top. Taking the bottle, she unscrewed the sealed top and lifted up the gauze to see two minute bleeding holes on Constance's skin. She began to tilt the bottle and the runny purple liquid inside started to seep out: it split into two narrow streams, each sleekly funnelling into the punctures like tiny whirlpools.**_

_**"I'm sorry if it's hurting you, sweetheart. The stinging will stop soon."**_

_**The bottle's contents gradually began to taper off, but Constance was showing no indication of improvement.**_

_**"Come on … don't do this to me …" Gabriella's voice was beginning to crack with fear. "Why isn't it working?" **_

_**Dawn was clenching her empty fist, the other hand tightening on the empty bottle, her face turning from calm and collected expectancy of an instant reaction to deep-seated anxiety. She lightly rested her fingers on Constance's left wrist, grimacing.**_

_**Constance suddenly blinked her eyelids.**_

_**"Constance? You can hear me, can't you? Blink once for 'yes'," Dawn said quickly.**_

_**Constance blinked once.**_

_**"Was it her?" Gabriella butted in.**_

_**Constance blinked.**_

_**"That fu—"**_

_**"Not now, Gab. We will deal with her later. Constance, I need to know how long. Blink once for an hour, twice for two hours and so on."**_

_**Constance blinked nine times. Dawn cursed under her breath. **_

_**"Gab, I want you to go to the infirmary and ask Gloria for another two bottles. Tell her I'll explain later. And we'll need a bowl this time."**_

_**Gabriella left and returned speedily with the items. She had run through the building in her nightwear and, at that moment in time, couldn't have cared less if she had been stark naked.**_

_**"What if it doesn't wor—?" **_

_**"For God's sake, Gab, she can hear you!" Dawn snapped. "Don't worry, Constance, I will reverse it. I promise you I will."**_

_**Dawn repeated the previous process with a further two bottles. The bite marks were beginning to fade by the time the third was half empty. Dawn took another wipe and cleaned up the remnants of Constance's exuded blood as the holes began to seal themselves. The pair waited on tenterhooks, preparing for the treatment's effects to kick in.**_

_**Constance blinked a few times before hastily shooting bolt upright, grasping a congested breath and coughing thick, slimy black mucus into the awaiting bowl. A few specks spattered onto her black nightgown. Gabriella, who had gently supported her and held her hair back while she was heaving, climbed more so beside her as she finished, taking her weight as she fell limp with fatigue.**_

_**Gabriella pulled Constance against her shoulders, hugging her close, patting her face with a conjured damp flannel and removing the almost invisible stains within several seconds as she muttered a spell.**_

_**Constance remained mute, droplets flowing down her face as she caught her breath. **_

_**Dawn put the bowl and discarded items to the side and pulled off her gloves. She moved the case onto the floor and took out a stethoscope and blood pressure measurer from it.**_

_**"Keep her upright a minute …"**_

_**Dawn listened to Constance's heart and breathing front and back, mirroring Gabriella's look of concern as the pair watched Constance's eyelids gradually start to close. Gabriella repositioned her hold as Dawn wrapped the cuff of the measurer around Constance's upper left arm. **_

_**Constance slumped a little and let out a small moan. The room was spinning violently around her and she was desperate to lie flat.**_

_**Dawn noticed her discomfort. "Let her lie down, Gab."**_

_**Together, they carefully laid Constance back onto her pillows, Dawn readjusting the cuff and continuing to measure Constance's blood pressure with the device and stethoscope. She listened and watched intently for half a minute, nodding as she unwrapped the Velcro-lined sleeve.**_

_**"It will calm in a while, but she needs to rest." Dawn turned, put the instruments back in the open case and pushed it to the side of the bed.**_

_**"Constance, I want you stay in bed for the next three days – no arguments. I will deal with Hecketty. Gab, keep an eye on her for a bit. She will be asleep before long. I will be back shortly."**_

_**Dawn squeezed Constance's hand, stood, picked up the bowl, her other discarded items and the jar with the spider in it, and left the room.**_

_**Gabriella moved off the bed and started to tuck Constance up properly within the sheet and blanket.**_

_**Constance's eyes had now fully closed. Her colouring was extremely pale but no longer cyanotic, and breathing steady and relaxed as she drifted off.**_

_**Gabriella stayed for a while, kneeling upright and stroking Constance's tousled hair. She knew if she didn't calm down and did what she was thinking of doing, Hecketty would use it as the perfect excuse to have her removed from Constance's company. Or, worse, have her suspended. Gabriella felt sick to the stomach. Her heart was still pounding, and, despite her pacifist nature, she wanted at that precise moment nothing more than to attack Hecketty with all her might.**_

_**Wiping her eyes with the fluffy sleeve of her dressing gown, Gabriella rose to standing and left the room silently, still not giving two hoots about what she was wearing. She walked with intent through the building to the College infirmary. On her approach, she heard Hecketty's thunderous, screechy voice rebounding around from within. Hecketty emerged as Gabriella neared the door. It took her every ounce of willpower not to pounce on her tutor.**_

_**Hecketty brushed past and ignored her, walking with an arrogant gait down the corridor. **_

_**Gabriella entered the elongated thirty-bed capacity room. Dawn was crying heavily from inside of the night-duty matron's office. Gabriella popped her head around the sliding glass door.**_

_**"Oh, God. Please tell me she hasn't sacked you?" **_

_**Dawn shook her head. "Worse. She … said if I interfere with her 'teaching' again she will make certain I lose my Sorcermed licence as well as my job. I have two children to support through school on my own, Gab. I need to work."**_

_**"Shhh, it's okay. She's only got two years left. We will get her through it," Gabriella said, entering fully and putting her arm around her.**_

_**"Is she all right?" **_

_**Dawn looked up to see Gloria Royd standing in the doorway, one of the three other matrons responsible for the College's students.**_

_**"We're just going back to see; it took three full doses to bring her out of it," Dawn replied, blowing her nose with a couple of tissues and nipping over to the nearest sink to wash her hands and face.**_

_**"Oh, good grief. The poor girl. Am I to take it one 'escaped'?"**_

_**Gabriella and Dawn nodded.**_

_**"Have you seen either Felicia or Cynthia yet?"**_

_**"No. And I don't intend to tell them, otherwise she will know it came from me, Gloria," Dawn replied, tossing her paper towelling into a bin.**_

_**"Is she around, Gab?"**_

_**Gabriella lifted her head, engaging her senses. "Not that I can tell," she replied, shaking her head at Gloria and giving her the go-ahead to speak her mind.**_

_**Gloria nodded, folding her plump arms across her navy-uniformed chest. "I wish now I'd said something once I knew I was leaving. Knowing her, she'd still find a way to scupper my new position at Weirdsister before I even get there."**_

_**"It's not your fault; we are as trapped as that poor bairn is, and half the blasted staff are on her side, or else pretend to be. You should be glad to get away. This place changed beyond recognition the day she got her vile mitts on it, and I swear she's got worse as time's gone on."**_

_**Gloria nodded, re-securing the regulatory white hat sitting upon her silky brown hair. "I will keep a look out for any jobs, Dawn. I'll keep you posted. Tell Jill and Victoria to work hard for their WHCs, too. Marvellous school, Cackle's; our Catherine's daughter went there." Gloria smiled meekly, excusing herself to go back to her duties.**_

_**Both Dawn and Gabriella made their way back to the girls' room.**_

_**Constance was still asleep. Gabriella sat down on the edge of Constance's bed. After a few minutes, Constance opened her eyes. Gabriella was quietly chatting to Dawn, the pair having a much-needed drink. Gabriella sensed her watching and quickly put down her cup on Constance's bedside table. She knelt in front of her.**_

_**"I'm sorry, Gab," Constance uttered, barely audible.**_

_**Gabriella looked at her, remembering once again how she had momentarily questioned a slight underlying taste in their evening cocoa after only one sip, right before falling asleep, too late to stop the effects. **_

_**"Why? Why didn't you let me protect you?"**_

_**Constance blinked. "I knew she was planning it for ... for one of us. I … had to make sure she would leave you alone … and have no choice but me," she admitted softly. **_

_**Gabriella put her hand to her mouth, tears springing from her eyes as she began to see past the inner barrier Constance had formed to prevent Gabriella picking up on her intentions the previous evening.**_

_**"You … for God's sake, Bo—"**_

_**"I knew you'd both sort it. Thank you," Constance finished, re-closing her eyes.**_

_**Dawn and Gabriella exchanged glances. Dawn stood from Gabriella's bed and spent another couple of minutes silently checking Constance over. **_

_**Gabriella stood back, watching her examine her best and closest friend, trying to suppress the emotion crushing her throat. **_

_**Dawn stroked a finger gently down Constance's cheek before packing up the silver case. **_

_**Gabriella made to see her out, the pair hesitating and talking behind the half-open door.**_

_**"Have you ever … What if it had been longer?" Gabriella whispered.**_

_**"She … she may not have recovered. If it had been an adult she would have been trapped permanently for certain," Dawn replied, almost soundlessly. She swallowed forcefully and cleared her throat. "Thank heavens it was only a baby. The serum cannot stop the adult's toxin after longer than an hour. I am going to ask the other shareholders for those spiders to be removed for the safety of the students. The safe types are all well and good, but they should never have allowed her to keep that kind here, 'studying purposes' or not."**_

_**Gabriella nodded. "And, Dawn … thank you."**_

_**"I'll come back in half an hour or so; she's better in here with you than the infirmary. Try and get her to drink, at least. I'm going to make some calls – and they can like it or lump it on a Sunday; it won't stop me ringing them." Dawn smiled and left. Gabriella shut the door and turned. Constance was watching her. **_

_**"I …" **_

_**Constance shook her head as Gabriella tried to talk. "She would have done it at … at some point. She's got Dawn right where she … wants her now. She … wouldn't have let … it go too far. I'm all right, G-Gab. Just … so …" she trailed off, closing her eyes once more.**_

_**Gabriella climbed on the bed beside Constance, lying close next to her, thinking deeply.**_

_**Mortals always assumed locked-in syndrome was a purely medical condition, characterised by the inability to move anything but one's eyes.**_

_**Hecketty always had to go that one step further in her 'teaching' methods: using an ancient method of torture – a prohibited creature, capable of keeping Constance alive while paralysing her completely for Hecketty's own amusement.**_

_**But Constance had not been unconscious. The entrapment within her own body had effectively rendered her a living corpse. Not breathing, not moving, and yet continuing to exist.**_

_**She had endured the horrendous torment of every single second of that night …**_

* * *

"Shhh … Dear, you're all right, shhh …" Amelia was standing beside her deputy's right, stroking her forehead with her thumb, her hand lightly resting above Constance's hairline.

Mildred had nipped out to get herself another magazine, under Amelia's persuasive orders. Amelia's honest reason was the desire to have a few minutes alone with Constance while Herbert had also briefly left the room.

Constance was sleeping, and Amelia knew she would not answer back, or likely recall later what Amelia had said, which, for now, suited Amelia perfectly. But Amelia's words had been few. When it came to it, she still could not fully say what she had wanted to. Her voice had failed her after only several syllables. Despite this, Amelia had been glad she had spoken them now, before any more time passed, even if they were repeated at a later date.

Herbert had returned just as Amelia was wiping her eyes with her tissue, and politely excused himself for a couple more minutes to let Amelia finish her moment of emotion in peace. He and Mildred walked back into the room a little time later to see Amelia standing by the bedside and trying to sooth her deputy's restlessness.

"Can we not wake her?"

"I'd rather not – not if we can avoid it. This is not something we can provoke to leave her system any quicker than it is meant to. In theory, if we let it run its natural course, then the sooner she will recover. She's obviously dreaming very deeply, but as long as she is only mildly tachycardic, she is still all right. Her BP is only a little elevated at the moment and her respiration is stable. Let's see how she goes. Hudson should be in before long; they have started the rounds."

Amelia nodded and gave a small smile, listening to the bleeping of the monitor sounding and the rain spraying the windows like a burst hydrant. She and Herbert pulled up their chairs beneath them.

Mildred had already retaken her seat. She reached for Constance's hand, having placed her magazine beside her on the chair. She knew would not read it until the knot in her stomach had released itself. She had sensed her headmistress wanted some time alone with Constance, but that had not stopped her practically running all the way to the internal newsagent's and back.

Another deafening crash of thunder caused all three to jump in their seats. The lightning strike accompanying it was in perfect synchronicity with the booming noise.

"It's right above us …" Mildred whispered under her breath as the room darkened even further …

_**"What are you going to call her?" Gabriella asked Constance, sitting beside her and delicately stroking the top of the creature's head.**_

_**Constance was sitting on her bed, gazing at the tiny baby bat in her hand. She had found it crawling along the stony ground, obviously abandoned, by the nearby cave in the vicinity of the College.**_

_**"She's damaged her patagial membranes …"**_

_**"Her what?"**_

_**"The folds of skin between her limbs and body that make up her wings. They've been badly scratched and –" **_

_**"– her leg is broken," Gabriella finished for her, now sensing the tiny creature's pain. "Can you fix her?"**_

_**Constance closed her eyes and held her right hand above the trembling creature.**_

_**The bat's body began to glow with white light. Gabriella watched, transfixed in awe, as the bat started to chirp, flapping its wings and moving its legs.**_

_**Constance smiled, and said, quietly, "How about Hope?" **_

_**Gabriella nodded, eyes glistening as she smiled back at Constance. "You should have been a vet, never mind a potions teacher! Well, in four months, anyway."**_

_**Constance placed the bat in a small, softly lined cardboard box and conjured several wriggling mealworms beside her gaping mouth. She partially closed the lid, pushed the box under her bed and smiled. **_

_**"We'd best get to supper." Gabriella led the way, opening the door for the two of them.**_

_**As Constance left the room and shut the door, a shudder crept down her spine, feeling as if someone was watching her.**_

_**A few days passed. Constance continued to feed the little creature as it regained its strength, letting it fly around their room at night and teaching it to capture conjured insects. **_

_**"I'll be able to release her soon." Constance smiled briefly. Then her expression changed as she glanced up at the clock. "I'd better get down there." Constance stood to leave their room.**_

_**Gabriella nodded. "Shall I wait outside?"**_

_**Constance met her eyes. "No. Just … stay here tonight. Please." **_

_**Constance smiled, clearing her throat and outwardly trying to convince Gabriella she would be fine, but she knew she couldn't hide her true feelings from her. No one understood her like Gabriella did, and she could read Constance like a book.**_

_**Gabriella could see Constance's aura surrounding her, and it was not calm and tranquil, nor was it shimmering with energy or peaceful ease. Instead, it was nervous and more agitated than Gabriella had ever seen it.**_

_**The pair both made to speak at once, but each stopped, unable to utter the next word as their speech caught in their throats. **_

_**Constance gave a small smile, turned and left. She didn't hear the whispered apology spoken by her shaking friend.**_

_**Gabriella sat on her bed, a lump already formed and half-choking her throat. She stood, determined to follow her, regardless of Constance's wishes. Several seconds after she left, a figure appeared in the room by Constance's bed.**_

_**Constance knocked on the door of the potions personal tuition classroom. She received no reply. Knocking again, and still hearing nothing, she entered, finding it pitch black. The light from the corridor behind her illuminated a desk just to her left. A single piece of folded paper was sitting upon it. Constance hesitated, then reached to pick it up, opening and reading the contents, her eyes growing wider as the words entered her head. She refolded and put the piece of paper in her dress pocket, then began the journey down into the bowels of the College. **_

_**Beneath the foundations of the building lay cold, dark, interconnected sections of lengthy tunnels, spread underground throughout the entire surface area of the College, all leading to, and from, the central meeting point, situated directly beneath the Great Hall in centre of the building. She followed the trail in near-darkness, dimly lit by candles sitting in small alcoves within the walls, her only source of light along the damp, cobwebbed passages. The singular candles in each of individual spaces became magically lit whenever a new tunnel was entered to guide the next step of the journey. Finally reaching her destination, she paused in front of a bricked-up area, the size of a double doorway opening.**_

_**The person inside knew she was there, for they could see her through the outwardly opaque blockade. "IN!" A single word, delivered with the same razor-sharp tone Constance had heard countless times. The voice was unmistakable, and passed through the wall as if it were made of paper.**_

_**Constance rested her hand on the bricks and muttered a spell: the bricks began to fade away, creating an opening big enough for a person to walk through. Constance entered. It was an enormous, circular room, the continuous spherical wall lit all around by small alcoves holding thick, dust-covered candles, flickering in the draughty air; air which should have been still and dense from the virtually undisturbed atmosphere, but wasn't. The ceiling was not low, but it was not high, either. Despite the overall size, the room had a claustrophobic feel, almost as if the walls could unexpectedly close in, rendering whoever was inside trapped. In the very middle was a round stone table, upon which stood a bed-sized book, bound in pure gold. The book's insides were yellowed, as if the pages had lain soaked in stewed tea for a lifetime and were then dried by the burning sun, making them crisp and crackly to the touch. The pages were open almost down the centrefold, and the sheets themselves divided into sections. The scribed writing within them was various sizes and colours, some with handwriting difficult to decipher. The book itself would have been too heavy to be physically moved by any less than six people, and the individual sheets within would require turning with both hands to support them if done manually.**_

_**The room was where the notorious fire had started; a fire which had engulfed the entire room, sending billowing, punching smoke through the ceiling as well as along the tunnels, all the way into the uppermost areas of the building, where four of the eight passages emerged. **_

_**The floor was almost black, covered in a layer of still-lingering ash, and the room smoke-tarred but intact. Beneath the table, within the square stone base, was a carved-out hole. And within this hole was a glass box like a giant ice cube, and encased in this box was another book. A familiar book.**_

_**"Good of you to join me, dear." Hecketty moved forwards with silent steps towards Constance. She smiled evilly, passing her niece and resealing the entrance. **_

_**Gabriella was lost. Her fears and uncertainties were clouding her senses and judgement of direction. Night felt so different to day, even though the enclosed passages looked the same no matter what time it was. She heard a noise coming from the opposite direction to where she had been headed and turned back: while it was widely known the tunnelling system existed due to the infamous incident almost a hundred years ago under the grounds of the College, students were forbidden to enter. Gabriella had always known the room beneath the Great Hall would be the likeliest place to hide something you didn't want found, especially as it was out-of-bounds, blockaded by magic, and any proven entry punishable by permanent exclusion. Only Hecketty had the knowledge to unlock the sealed room, at least, up until nine days ago.**_

_**The College had been virtually gutted by a fierce fire over ten years ago, presumed arson, which began directly beneath the Great Hall. Hecketty had single-handedly saved the ancient building by her generous donation after a very sudden windfall, bringing it back to its former reputation and glory, as well as securing future income for herself, Guild and Federation. The foundations had been stabilised, the building had been repaired, and the College refurbished, redecorated and restocked. Magic could only help so far in the restoration process: the rules and regulations about using magic to help in those types of situations were clear cut for both principled and honourable reasons, and not everything could be fixed by a simple click of the fingers. Ultimately, it was Hecketty's actions which revived the College, and those actions would ensure no one would be prepared to speak out against her, or her running of the establishment. **_

_**And, indeed, it was an impressive establishment. The College was sandstone, beige in colour and weatherworn with age. It was nearly a hundred feet high, handsome in design and strikingly pillared around the outside entrance. It was in the middle of a large, gloriously green landscape, and the inhabitants of a nearby cave and lake were the only life-givers for several miles. Great, long, gravelled pathways led up to the stately manor, formally a gathering place for members of the Federation. The arched windows were intricately leaded, some incorporating stained glass in mystical shapes. The Great Hall was circular, tall and majestic. The marble staircases were sweeping within, and the rooms large and conducive for the further learning of witchcraft. The halls of residence for the staff and students alike were clean, fresh and modern, featuring en suite facilities and electricity. The library alone was one of most well-known in the magical community, due to its novelty in surrounding the entire Great Hall, effectively a circle within a circle, accessible from all four corners of the building: four sections of learning, each with seventy-five students. Only fifteen coveted places per year were available within each of the four fields of specialised learning: Teacher Training, Magical Politics, Natural Ability Enhancement and Magical Research. Its staff were highly qualified; personal tuition in each field took place from the second year until graduation in the fifth as well as ordinary classes, and the four Sorcermed-trained matrons were always on hand, either in their offices during the day, or on night duty in the infirmary, should they be required. **_

_**The College's educational system was managed with meticulous decorum, and Hecketty's traditional mantra of her students focusing one hundred per cent on their studies, by having only the necessary means of pure learning and virtually no distractions, meant that her way of thinking was having the desired effect: to produce some of the very best witches in the country. No one ever enrolled at the College expecting it to be like any other; the way it was run was renowned throughout all magical establishments. There was free time, of course, but it was limited, controlled and kept within a locational boundary, stretching only as far as the small town nearest the College, unless it was a holiday period. But if the students wanted prospects to speak of with glowing pride upon their graduation, no prospects were as impressive on paper as a certificate from the Witch Training College.**_

_**The College, unlike others, did not have a principal. It was controlled by three shareholders, and Hecketty's was the largest stake. At the time of the fire, her teaching position was already secure, but she was still, at that point, climbing the tutoring ladder. When the building suffered its devastating blow, Hecketty, shortly thereafter attaining newly acquired funds, seized the opportunity to take control, and took it with both hands. Although it had always been deemed one of the very best colleges of the country, once Hecketty had the authority to make her personal mark on the establishment, she did so, and with, undeniably, unprecedented academic results.**_

_**Gabriella's longing desire to help Constance retake what was hers had finally led the pair to Constance's procured heritage some nine days ago. But they had both been uneasy for the last several days. Thus far, Hecketty had done nothing. Gabriella had followed her friend, despite her warning, knowing something truly terrible was about to happen. Tutorials around the midnight hour were common place, especially with potions: certain ingredients had to be used at that very time under a full moon. She was half-tempted to wake Dawn to ask for help, and to hell with the consequences, but she knew Constance would not be in any less danger: Hecketty's position was all-powerful. Gabriella had watched Constance from paces away, tiptoeing in the shadows, trailing her footsteps to the place they had entered early the previous week. And now, Gabriella was sure, Constance was on her way to meet Hecketty in the very spot it transpired her inherited Almanac had been kept all these years. If Gabriella wasn't certain before, she knew now: Hecketty had found out, and Constance was about to pay the price. Gabriella set off at a run, knowing she had little time left.**_

_**Hecketty casually started to walk around the room, beckoning Constance to over to the table.**_

_**Constance took several paces forwards and halted, sensing Gabriella at the end of the linking tunnel. **_

_**Hecketty looked at her, wonderingly.**_

_**Constance quickly carried on walking, swallowing and listening to the near silence. She stopped before the table, tensing as Hecketty stood beside her, looking down upon the book.**_

_**"A beautiful work of art, isn't it? Priceless. Utterly priceless and, I believe, the only one left in this part of the world. Perhaps even the entire world …"**_

_**Constance said nothing, feeling more terrified than she had ever been before.**_

_**"It holds so many enchantments, this book. More than most, even yours, well, ours … Not as remotely powerful, of course, but still highly advanced, nonetheless … But wasn't Miss Foxglove a clever little witch in finding it? I had sealed this room well, or so I thought. I had even made the room appear empty just in case any interfering students dared to try and enter. Yet you both managed to wheedle your way in … You will, of course, know its history …"**_

_**Constance swallowed, looking at the floor.**_

_**"No? Well then, I shall enlighten you, my dear … The Magnus Graduatis Compendium has been passed from college to college, establishment to establishment for, what must be, over eighty years now. It, of course, had to be rather large to take the sheer amount of enchantments expected to be entered into it over time. It was thought up by a wizard, unsurprisingly, as we all know how wizards gauge things by size ... However, the concept was, indeed, truly brilliant. How lucky that we were in possession of it the very year that you should come to us? Our sixty soon-to-be graduating students were very excited that year – it had only been with us since September, and already they were making plans for their entries: only the very best come to the Witch Training College, therefore only the very best enchantments would have been entered into this book. It was kept in the Great Hall, on display to all those impressionable young witches with the previous establishments' entries. Where would ours have ended up going to next to be admired and studied, I wonder? Who could have known it would hold such treasures? But it had to be handled very carefully: full encasement was the safest way; the pages could be turned safely by those adept in the art of telekinetic magic. And, naturally, it would not do to have anything within it copied or, heaven forbid, ripped out. What an astonishing piece of irony that it would hold an enchantment capable of copying the book itself and overriding the safeguards cast upon it in the first place? Not to mention a spell capable of altering a document so efficiently, its question of authenticity could never be contested … But, alas, the book was destroyed in the fire, now, wasn't it …"**_

_**Hecketty turned around to face Constance, who had taken a single step back from the table, sensing danger was not far away. She had seen the page the book was open on, and recognised one of the enchantments it revealed, knowing it was a deliberate indication of why she was there.**_

_**"You know how I achieved and secured my position here … You know how I orchestrated and falsified this book's seemingly permanent destruction. You know how I altered your parents' will to favour my dear sister and I. And you know why …"**_

_**Constance took another step back, her power ready to fight for her life, even if she was not.**_

_**"And I know your little friend knows, too … Oh, I know you didn't mean to tell her … She certainly kept her natural gift a secret for long enough … Psychic abilities can be such a curse, and your own talents in that department make it as hard for you to switch off to her as she to you … But you had to go looking, didn't you? Instead of stopping her meddling in matters not concerning her, you actually helped her get through my obstructions, and then pair of you tried to hoodwink me …"**_

_**Hecketty started to walk around her in a circle, slowly, looking her up and down like an animal about attack its prey.**_

_**"I will ask you only once, Constance, and if you answer honestly, and produce the real Almanac, I will not harm your dear, sweet friend. I know all about her mother's history, and believe me, my girl – I can make it look like an accident …"**_

_**Constance lifted her eyeline to her aunt's and made to raise her hands.**_

_**"Oh, no, no, no. No magic, Constance. Merely tell me, and I shall obtain it myself."**_

_**"Do … do I have your word you will not touch her? Your word as a sister of witchcraft?"**_

_**Hecketty smiled, unpleasantly. "You do."**_

_**"It is enchanted into my wall, behind my bed …" Constance paused, then said, "And you will, I'm sure, recall the spell to break through it …" Constance finished softly, her voice a whisper. She had known from the second she read the note awaiting her she was cornered, and now this was the only choice.**_

_**Hecketty gave a slight nod of her head and vanished from the spot. She returned less than a minute later, holding a book in her hands. **_

_**"Test it."**_

_**Constance looked at her.**_

_**"I wish you to prove it is, indeed, the real article."**_

_**Constance moved forwards and took the book from her. It began to glow brilliant red. She opened it to the blank pages, instantly conjuring the contents within, and raised her gaze.**_

_**Hecketty smirked. **_

_**Constance closed the book and placed it on the table, stepping back, waiting for her aunt's next move.**_

_**Hecketty flicked her wrist into the air in a grandiose gesture.**_

_**Constance closed her eyes in dread, knowing her best friend was now frozen in her place outside the room. She shuddered as her aunt cast a barrier around them to prevent a single sound escaping from within their enclosure.**_

_**Hecketty stepped away from the table and raised her hands: the glass box beneath slid out, rising and hovering in mid-air. She waved her hand over the top: the glass melted away and she picked up the identical Almanac and tossed it into the air, blasting it with a sizzling bolt of brilliant blue light.**_

_**"I could never really understand the need for electricity when one can replicate it so efficiently," she scoffed. She took the other book and placed it in the hole beneath the table, waving her hand once more: the hole became sealed on all sides with glass, creating another glass box around the book. "It would not do to have more than one copy hanging around unnecessarily; it could prove rather troublesome."**_

_**Constance remained standing. By now, her heart was pounding, her head dizzy, and she could feel the growing chill circulating around the walls.**_

_**"Well, just four months until your finals. I hear you have been doing extremely well in your other classes, my dear." **_

_**Hecketty turned around to face her niece and held out her hand: a small cardboard box appeared, resting on her palm like a drinks tray.**_

_**Constance released a suppressed scream, staring in horror as her aunt opened the lid and roughly picked up the baby bat from inside.**_

_**"I've always hated these disgusting, dirty creatures." **_

_**"Please … please … I beg you, please … You have it back. You have what you want. Please … don't hurt her …" **_

_**Hecketty looked up, slowly, intently.**_

_**Constance stepped forwards, raising her arm and twitching her hand.**_

_**Hecketty smiled cruelly, within seconds freezing her niece to the spot.**_

_**Constance could only watch in unspeakable devastation as Hecketty threw the bat into the air and obliterated its fragile body.**_

_**Hecketty released Constance from her frozen state.**_

_**Constance remained standing. She was trying not to show any fear; trying not to tremble or cry, and she was holding her breath.**_

_**Hecketty leisurely placed the cardboard container on the table, vanishing it and walking around the table clockwise, coming back to stand in front of Constance. She was much shorter in stature, but that did nothing to detract from her terrifying demeanour.**_

_**She inspected Constance like a drill sergeant on parade. "Still very scrawny, I see. But you never did eat very much from poor Henny, did you now?"**_

_**Hecketty vanished once more from the spot, reappearing seconds later with a metal bucket in her hand. It was filled with clear liquid. She placed it on the table, and then walked towards Constance, each footstep silent and menacing. **_

_**Constance began to back away towards the sealed exit.**_

_**Hecketty merely smiled. "I have to say, dear, your little trick has certainly served us well. To think such a small amount of your serum could last for so long. So much easier than having to learn from scratch, wouldn't you say?"**_

_**Constance knew it was coming; she could not react quickly enough. She daren't.**_

_**Hecketty gripped her by the throat, slamming her backwards with such force her feet skimmed the ground as she was thrown into the wall, the rough, uneven surface jarring Constance's skeletal spine. Constance yelped as Hecketty threw her to the floor. She curled up as her aunt's hard, sharply pointed shoes kicked her repeatedly in the stomach. Shaking violently, Constance tried to scramble upwards. A brutal strike in the back rendered her once again on the ground. Pulling her forcefully, Hecketty grabbed the base of her neck and harshly yanked her upright. Constance gave a small gasp as she was slammed back into the wall, her skull abrasively scraping the stone, before she was viciously thrown once more to the floor. Hecketty grasped her long, loose hair, dragging her across the room. She bent down to her, panting slightly as strength-giving adrenaline pumped through her body, and removed from her pocket a small phial. Prising Constance's mouth open, Hecketty tipped the black liquid into her throat, forcing her swallow. As Constance turned over, half slumped on the floor, winded and bleeding, Hecketty casually strolled over to the table, pulling from her pocket another phial of black liquid. She poured it into the bucket, brimming with icy water, watching it penetrate the clear fluid like ink. Lifting it with both hands, she turned and threw the contents over Constance's body. Constance gagged a little, backing away from her as her figure became surrounded by a shadowy black glow. Hecketty summoned a bolt of Magilec in each of her hands before taking a deep breath and pushing all her power behind them. **_

_**Constance tried in vain to override the Intensifier coursing through her system. **_

_**Hecketty beamed as Constance's ear-splitting cries of agony rang out. The rays of power surged into her niece's saturated body, the wetness increasing the voltage. **_

_**Constance's nerve-endings felt like she was being stabbed by thousands of shards of glass. The pain had become so intense, her body had actually stopped shaking, turning rigid as her muscles bore a tautness of tension she had never experienced. Her hands were clawed, head bent back and legs stretched out and bound together as if her entire body was tied up by ropes of electricity. The force suddenly lifted her into mid-air; now, it was unbearable: she couldn't think, speak, scream, move, hear or see. She was aware of only blackness and unrelenting agony.**_

_**The currents continued striking her in a constant stream for almost a minute. And then the streams stopped. The rebounding echo of Constance's screams had long since faded away, and the room was silent.**_

_**Hecketty lunged at Constance, picking up her head and torso and lifting her up to her standing eye level. "You … will NEVER escape us. You ... can NEVER hide from us ... That book … is OURS. Your LIFE … is OURS!" Hecketty shrieked as she panted for breath, pure hatred in her voice.**_

_**Constance whimpered as the back of her aunt's hand fiercely swiped her face. Hecketty waited for her to take a breath before compressing her throat remorselessly. She squeezed effectively but undamagingly as Constance fought for air.**_

_**Constance's eyes were wide, her pupils dilated and jet black. She suddenly fixed her vision on Hecketty; a glare so intense, Hecketty felt a shudder trace her spine: it was as if she could hear Constance's voice deep down within her soul, pleading with her to release her; pleading with her to stop; pleading to the human being left inside.**_

_**Hecketty shook her head vigorously, trying to shake off the repetitive sound in her mind. It continued in a crescendo, repeating the same phrase until it was screaming within her head relentlessly. Resolving to end it, her fingers crept their way around to the back of Constance's neck. Within seconds, her niece's eyelids fluttered closed and she wilted like a dying flower, her body falling limp. Hecketty released her grip. Constance's lifeless, battered body fell with a dull thud to the filthy floor. **_

_**The impediment had been overpowered; the noise had stopped. Hecketty's eyes were vividly bright, her expression like a person possessed, a smile of exhilaration and ecstasy spreading across her evil face as she caught her breath. **_

_**Constance was completely motionless, lying prostrate at Hecketty's feet.**_

_**Hecketty suddenly let out a shriek and dropped to her knees, her head shooting with pain for a split second and vision going black. Then the pain ceased and she looked up, grey spots dispersing from her eyes. Her face, she knew, was no longer smiling. She felt … anomalous, as if her brain had been invaded and thoughts disturbed. She had done what she set out to do. Constance had paid the price for her actions like she deserved, and that was all there was to it. She contracted and released her fingers, quivering from head to foot, light-headed and trying to re-engage her thoughts. She looked down at her niece.**_

_**Constance lay like an old, forgotten doll. She was not stirring. Not moving. She was covered in cuts and scratches. Her bottom lip was bleeding badly, the blood dripping down the side of her mouth. Her eyes were dark and sunken, hair wet, wild and knotted, and dress caked in dust and grime, the material snagged in places where the rough stone walls had caught it. She looked ghostly in appearance, more than pale. She looked dead.**_

_**Hecketty leaned forwards and lifted her niece's unconscious form, staring at her ashen features. She found herself running her fingers through her dirt-encrusted hair.**_

_**"But … you deserved it … you did … You did a very bad thing, finding the Compendium and copying the Almanac. You shouldn't have … you shouldn't have …" Hecketty's voice was childlike, as if her subconscious mind was trying to convince itself that her actions had right to implement upon her niece.**_

_**Constance did not respond. **_

_**Hecketty ran her hand down Constance's face, across her shoulders and chest and back up to her neck, feeling her pulse. She felt a slow thump beneath her cold fingers, which seemed to speed up slightly as Constance's eyelids began to open. Hecketty was fixed to the spot, her other arm still supporting her niece's upper form from underneath.**_

_**Constance blinked several times, dust specks flying off her eyelashes, then looked up at her, eye to eye, and tried to raise her trembling hand to Hecketty's. **_

_**For a moment, they connected: Constance witnessing a side of Hecketty she had only ever dreamed of, and Hecketty, for the first – and only – time since her niece had known her, felt a flicker of life in the last remaining part of the humane, compassionate soul she was born with. A single tear dropped down from Hecketty's eye as Constance faintly spoke just six short words.**_

_**And then the moment was gone. The connection terminated. Hecketty felt an icy chill wash over her heart and mind as Constance let out a shuddery breath and turned deathly still in her aunt's arms, her hand slumping to the floor.**_

_**Constance did not feel herself transported to the classroom where her late-evening lesson should have taken place. She was not aware of the spell being cast to conceal her injuries, simultaneously drying her soaked dress, cleaning her body and hiding all evidence of Hecketty's scheduled private tutorial. She did not hear her aunt calling for help after her niece had seemingly collapsed with 'exhaustion'. She did not hear the concerned voices talking rapidly, hovering over her, calling out her name and pleading with her to awaken. She did not feel herself lifted onto a stretcher, or see Dawn shaking her head, crying in despair at Hecketty's refusal to call an unnecessary doctor, pointing out she had merely been studying too hard. She did not see the frantic state of her best friend, transported back to her room and locked inside for hours on end, hammering on her door to an unhearing building, until Dawn came to fetch her. She did not hear the anguished cry from Gabriella when the latter later found the piece of paper in Constance's dress pocket. And she did not witness Gabriella sobbing over her still body virtually all night, lying herself beside her and clutching her hand.**_

_**But when Constance finally awoke the following day, beaten so badly she would not leave her infirmary bed for almost a month, she was fully aware of the damage inflicted, outwardly invisible to everyone but her. And she could feel everything …**_

* * *

"Hey there … shhh … you're okay, you're safe, I've got you, you're okay …" Mildred turned her head. "I think she's coming round," she added loudly.

Constance continued to flutter open her eyelids. Mildred was sitting on the bed beside her, having point-blank refused to move until Constance awoke. She was stroking Constance's forearm, her hand securely around hers.

Amelia was watching them over by the doorway. Herbert was talking at the foot of the bed with Hudson.

Slowly, Constance took and let out a deep breath. She turned her head towards the feeling of pressure on her right wrist, and looked up to see Brenda smiling kindly and holding a wad of bandage in place where her A-line was previously situated.

Blinking, Constance turned to the left to see Charlotte at her other side beside Mildred, redoing her blood pressure with an electronic machine: like the drip stands, it was a tall, silver pole on wheels, with a white, numerously buttoned keyboard control and small digital screen, and attached, a Velcro-lined blue cuff, normally in the white metal basket fixed to the stand when not in use, currently wrapped around the top of her left arm.

Constance turned again to the sound of footsteps. Amelia was walking timorously into the room, her face distressed and streaked with very recent tears.

Several minutes earlier, Constance had been screaming out in terror, hyperventilating once more until her body could no longer withstand it.

The monitor was bleeping calmly in the background, its speed now stabilised, and the emergency alarm was no longer sounding within the room. The bright lights had been dimmed, and the morning storm was over; the sunlight beginning to break through the clouds, almost as if to begin the day afresh.

Charlotte set the machine to check Constance's blood pressure at regular intervals and walked around the bed towards the sink, she and Brenda preparing to fully bandage up Constance's wrist until the bleeding had clotted enough to examine the damage better.

As the pair busied themselves, Herbert went over to the bedside at Constance's left.

"Hey, trouble," Herbert said kindly. He smiled as he stood beside her, giving her left hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry, you're okay now. You lost your A-line while you were dreaming and passed out again for a bit. We're going to keep you on the oxygen just for now, as your sats were a little off, but the A-line can stay out as you can manage without it now, really. No point inserting another for the sake of a day or so; you'll be okay with this monitoring your BP." He tilted his head towards the stand and crouched slightly. "Now, if it is all right with you, Hudson is going to write you up for some regular diazepam, Constance, to take the edge off. You really need to be having more peaceful sleep. You can't carry on like this. Your heart is racing practically every time you shut your eyes. It's not good for you. The sedatives will help, you'll see. We'll look after you."

Constance gave him a brittle smile and nodded. She re-closed her eyes, clenching Mildred's hand back tightly. Mildred stepped off the bed and sat back in her chair, never releasing her grasp.

"We'll give you fifteen minutes or so and then get you sorted, honey," Brenda said. She nodded to Herbert, then she and Charlotte left the room.

Hudson put her chart back into the trolley at end of the bed and approached Constance. Herbert stepped aside and Mildred shuffled her chair back as he stood beside the bed, manoeuvring between the stands and briefly looking at her drips, then half knelt to her level, surveying her closely.

"Is there anything else we can do to help you through this, Constance?" His voice was genuinely concerned. He had never had a patient have such a reaction to dreams before, and he felt responsible for not controlling them sooner; he had trusted his clinical judgement, going on her case history and condition, instead of believing in his gut instincts.

Constance opened her eyes. She looked at him momentarily and shook her head slightly, averting her glassy gaze above his head to Mildred, now standing behind him, arm stretched to maintain her grip on Constance.

Mildred smiled as he nodded and beckoned Herbert to follow as he left. Mildred didn't hesitate in moving her chair back as close as she could get it.

Herbert, too, was feeling extremely guilty: both doctors had already taken risks, albeit necessary ones, with the treatment of her condition; both in vastly unexplored territory. But it did not stop either feeling like they had failed their patient. Regardless of whether she had refused the continual offers of help, they both felt they should have pressed the point until she relented. She had accepted virtually everything they had proposed when she became coherent enough to consent, but, until last night, she had been adamant she did not want anything to help her through one particular side effect of her condition. And she had suffered the consequences. Herbert wondered if she had known it was going to happen and, rather than delay it, for perhaps it would have happened anyway, wanted to get it over and done with without allowing any specific treatment to stifle the ultimate outcome.

Amelia adjusted her handbag and walked towards the bed, standing beside Constance as the three were once again alone, taking her securely bandaged hand in hers.

Constance, almost unwillingly, turned her head towards her.

Amelia merely gazed at her, having no idea what to say. She opened and closed her mouth, with nothing emerging.

Mildred looked up at Amelia and back to Constance, giving a small squeeze of her hand.

"I … I …" Constance began, tears beginning to trickle from her dark eyes.

"Don't … don't cry. Please, Constance … don't cry," Amelia uttered softly.

Constance shut her eyes, unable to get the words out.

"We can talk later. I … have to go and check things are running smoothly. I … I will be back tonight." Amelia squeezed Constance's fingers supportively, bent and kissed her forehead, knowing that if she stayed any longer it would be her breaking down. She could hardly bear to look at Constance. She could hardly bear to see the tubes and connections and leads inserted into or attached to her deputy for another minute. She could hardly bear to hear the monitor; to hear her heart, when all she could still hear was the final chilling, unearthly scream of a person more petrified than she had ever before witnessed. It may have appeared uncaring and insensitive to leave after what had just occurred, but she knew she needed to get out of the room before the painful, throbbing pressure her in throat and chest completely exploded.

As Amelia walked to the door, she turned and looked back, intense heat burning behind her eyes which, Amelia knew, was only seconds away from being released. Mildred had taken a tissue from her pocket and was tenderly wiping Constance's wet face. Her hand was still in hers.

And this time, it was Constance who was refusing to let go.


	26. Chapter 26

**UPDATED: 23****RD**** MARCH 2010**

**WARNING: GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 26**

* * *

Enid purposefully made her way across the courtyard towards Ethel, stifling a yawn from her heavy night and brushing past the other gathered girls, eyes averted, as if avoiding pushy shopping-centre canvassers trying to gain her attention.

Ethel was standing beside the newly decorated broom shed, admiring the colourful artwork arranged, much to Imogen's dismay, by the first-years, aided and abetted by Fenella and Griselda.

"Hello, Enid. Maud's just been over here looking for you."

"I know, I've just seen her, thanks. Do you think you might fancy a fly around this afternoon? Miss Drill said it was okay provided we didn't leave the edge of the woods."

"Yes, please." Ethel smiled, her red-rimmed eyes indicating her own evident tiredness, but face showing genuine gratitude. Although she was in previously unexplored territory, she couldn't help but feel immensely grateful to have not just one, but two people who could relate to her thoughts, feelings and reflections of recent times with the same understanding, the same questions and the same memories since that night.

Enid lifted her gaze, knowing Ethel was thinking the same thing she was. Words didn't have to be spoken; they could guess what each other was thinking, and they knew, certainly for now, that the only way of keeping themselves sane and functioning after what they had witnessed, and without the interference of their teachers or parents, was to stick together.

"I'd … I'd really like that." Ethel took Enid's offered arm and the pair walked back into the school to find the third member of their formed party.

Ruby, Jadu and Drusilla were watching from the other side of the courtyard, the looks on their faces clearly representing how they, too, were feeling. And they were not relaxed or even marginally contented from the warm glow of supportive friendship. They were miserable. No one was helping them with their thoughts and feelings, at least not directly, though it was not through want of trying: the teachers had asked repeatedly and ascertained repeatedly that no pupils felt the need to 'discuss' the competition, or its outcome. Ruby, Jadu and Drusilla, like the others, did not want the teachers to realise how they really felt, and kept themselves virtually to themselves.

As it happened, most of the pupils could not remember a thing about that night: a few had vague visual flashes of Miss Hardbroom lying motionless before they became frozen in place; several had seen but scarcely acknowledged the conjured cage containing and later concealing the perpetrators responsible for their teacher's condition. No concrete memories existed with enough information to fuel more than a few rumours, and those fed by the inevitable Chinese whispers were short-lived. Indeed, very few had circulated in the time it took for Miss Bat and Miss Drill to organise the initial aftermath the following morning, and the stories themselves lacked the usual kind of excitedly gossiped flair they normally had. The pupils had seen the reactions of the staff, and realised, despite every one of them suspecting that their indomitable deputy had been more critically injured then had been privy to know at the time, that the situation had been a dire one, and was still, even now, over a week later, serious. Thus, they had formed an unspoken code of practice to maintain the protocols formally in place.

None of the pupils were really suffering anything other than a little boredom from the general lack of structure in the last several days at Cackle's, and overall the pupils were behaving, sensing that they could extend the usual boundaries, gauging the leeway gained each time, but they only pushed so far. In recent days they had become a little more restless, but overall the school had pulled together to support their headmistress and her staff, who had all evidently been shaken to the core and beyond by the events, which, they had been assured by the teachers and additionally the Chief Wizard himself, were now of no further consequence or threat to them. Perhaps not, but every girl in Cackle's knew that whatever the reason, whatever the exact method of injury, their deputy's life was still in the balance, and although they had not been told specifically what the 'dangerous weapon' was, they suspected it was Miss Hardbroom's life, and magic, that had been the target in the first place.

Ruby, Jadu and Drusilla had bonded together, feeling like spare parts. Although Ruby and Jadu's friendship was normally quite close, without the others, it seemed to create more tension between the pair. Drusilla's company was helping to alleviate some of that, but not before regretful words had been exchanged, blaming each other for the current break-up of their usual gang. And Mildred's lengthy absence was not aiding the hypersensitive state of affairs between them.

Since the morning after the competition, they had all suffered uncomfortable knots in their stomachs and an uneasy ache in their throats, the three wondering what they had done wrong. If they were somehow to blame. And why they had suddenly been cast aside.

All three also knew what each other was thinking and feeling, united in the mutual pain of – however unintentional – unprovoked rejection.

* * *

"They really have gone very quiet, you know."

"Hmm …"

"Davina, the last time they went **this **quiet, we ended up with a highly suitable offering for the Turner Prize!"

"The **what**?"

Imogen sighed, rolling her eyes. "Never mind, never mind. Would you believe, when I asked Griselda earlier if they wanted any help, she practically frogmarched me away, saying they had everything under 'full control', which, with those two, is debatable. The fifth-years are virtually teaching remedial spells to the second-years. Fenella and Griselda have practically taken charge of the first-years, and the third-years are all on various projects or else doing extra flying practice, and the remaining fourth-years have been brewing God knows what concoctions, and that's **when** they can get in the lab when the other two and company are out! Constance will go spare!"

"I don't know what you are so worried about, Imogen. Cackle's girls have always been very grown-up!"

Imogen raised her eyebrows.

"Well, perhaps there are several exceptions … but they've all seen how we've been affected, and they don't even know the half of it. I say, for now, we just let them release their energy with their talents and natural abilities and deal with the aftermath in another week or so. Pentangle's have a fortnight's midterm holiday, and ours haven't had their week-long break this year, after all. I'm sure Amelia has more things to worry about rather than fretting over a couple of weeks' lost lessons."

Imogen sank back into the patterned armchair opposite the older woman, wondering why Davina was never this rational normally. She imagined it was the fundamental difference of knowing she had to be more responsible, given the circumstances, rather than relying on others to take the helm.

"I suppose you're right. I expect Amelia will be here before very long, too. She's been stopping over more frequently than I thought she would – do you think she is being fully truthful with us?" Imogen looked up at Davina, who glanced back over the top of her knitting.

"I don't know, Imogen. I honestly don't know. I would think if there was anything serious happening with Constance she would tell us … but … I don't know." Davina shrugged and started on another row, half-hoping Imogen wasn't going to restart their early morning conversation.

"I'm surprised Mr Hallow hasn't been yet … and he also hasn't rung, for that matter. Nor the Guild … In fact, we haven't had much in way of official post, either. Amelia barely had anything but junk mail the other morning …" Imogen trailed off and looked up again at Davina, sensing, not for the first time, that she was out of the loop.

"Ah, well, um … Egbert is dealing with everything so that Amelia can focus on Constance. I think he feels somewhat responsible, so he has said he will sort everything out."

"And that means what, exact—?"

A not-so-quiet knock followed by the door opening before permission was granted broke into Imogen's speech.

"Miss Drill, Miss Bat, you'd better come quickly, something's wrong with Miss Hardbroom's cat …"

The pair glanced at each other before hurriedly running after the white-faced first-year out of the staffroom and down the hall towards the bottom of the staircase, all stopping in their tracks by the lower step.

"Oh, God, no …" Imogen knelt down to the creature, lying on her side, limp.

Davina crouched down at the other side and looked at Imogen.

"What happened?" Imogen addressed the young blonde-haired girl, now standing next to another first-year who had evidently been waiting for her.

"I don't know, Miss. Me and Jane had just come inside and she was stumbling down the stairs. She was breathing really fast and crying … it sounded so strange. Almost like a human … I've … I've never heard a cat make a noise like that. Then she just … is she dead?"

Davina gently picked up Morgana, cradling her in her arms. Morgana's eyes were partially open, her breathing very slow and quiet.

"She's not dead, though she's certainly ill … But I think I know what might help …" Davina said no more, stood up and headed off at speed along the hallway, disappearing towards the potion lab with Morgana cuddled against her chest.

"Off you go, girls. We'll take care of her. Oh, is everything all right out there?"

The girls replied, but Imogen wasn't really listening. She nodded in agreement, her eyes turning glazed as a sudden thought struck her. She vaguely watched the girls go back outside before going to find Davina.

* * *

Amelia rose into the air, the mid-morning sunlight warming her body as her cloak-wrapped shoulders absorbed the heat through the black material. She was flying very slowly, in no immediate hurry to get back; she needed time to think and refocus her mind. Her worries which had initially dispersed when her deputy fully awoke – discounting the nerve-shattering day last week when she again came so close to death; an occurrence that had happened more times than Amelia dared to think about – were now re-entering her head in incomprehensible abundance. What on earth had happened to her to cause such a drastic transformation? The scars were obviously more than skin-deep wounds of her past; it was as if the Soul Dagger had somehow released suppressed memories Constance had tried to forget, causing her to relive them with like-for-like vividness. And then there were Mildred's own changes, both as a person, and as someone who had become more attached to Constance than Amelia thought possible, and the fact it was reciprocated was the most astonishing aspect of their bond.

Amelia still could not bring herself to take it in: Constance had not even so much as hugged her employer at Yuletide; a small, quick passing embrace now and then, be it a triumph over a volleyball challenge or suchlike within the school, but never anything you could say was a vast display of emotion. There was, however, one occasion when Amelia had established a near breakthrough – the day she bought her Morgana … On a sunny Friday afternoon, before Constance was due to take the position of deputy the following Monday, Amelia had given her her first cat. She had casually brought up the subject some weeks previously, seeing if she could ascertain if Constance actually liked cats – not all witches did; Davina had kept hedgehogs for the longest time before changing to felines, and in quite the literal sense: she transformed her last hedgehog into a cat purely by accident and, upon apparently asking the creature which it preferred, kept it as a cat. Amelia didn't know if Davina had been pulling her leg, but given the animal still curled itself up tighter than she'd seen any cat manage, was mainly nocturnal and dug for and devoured earthworms like spaghetti, she suspected it was true. Not to mention its uncanny ability to sleep for weeks on end.

But Constance had never really seemed to respond either way during the previous presentation ceremonies, nor overly to Amelia's now-deceased feline companion, at least, not in view of others. Numerous times over the years Amelia had noticed her own cat disappear through the night, and she suspected she had taken herself off to a certain other witch, but Constance never offered an explanation as to her whereabouts, despite the several occasions Amelia had espied a few stray cat hairs clinging to Constance's dresses whenever she stepped into the light.

Constance had briefly mentioned her mother's cat had been an Egyptian Mau, most unusual, even more so because, although the smoke-coloured variety, she was as black as night. Amelia had set about doing an extensive search to find such a breed, becoming more frustrated as the information suggested they should have the tell-tale silvery spotted coats. She had been about to give up and conclude that the cat in question must have been a mixed variety when she discovered a breeder: a mysterious, Gothic lady, who was the spitting image of Amelia's favourite character as a young child, _Morticia Addams_; the second she saw her she was transported back to watching the identical-looking actress on the black-and-white television at her grandmother's friend's house. The breeder was known only as Nalene, and witches' cats were her speciality, a role taken on by her from her mother. Amelia had been informed that they were true Smoke Egyptian Maus, chosen partly for their mystical appearance: slender, muscularly elongated bodies, lustrous, sleek fur and agile, cheetah-like strides, but mainly because they had a special affinity with witches that no other breed seemed to offer. Amelia, of course, had to question the colouring, or rather lack thereof, as she was curious as to the nature of their appearance. Nalene had merely smiled serenely and softly told Amelia that hers were pure black due to other reasons, not to be revealed to customers, but just to trust her when she said hers were unlike any other feline. And obviously, they came at a price. Amelia would have dearly loved to purchase a litter per term from Nalene, but settled for just one, which, as it happened, was the last of a recent litter: she had obviously been the runt, but some extra loving care would soon sort out her skinny frame, and her two gigantic green eyes and lively mew made up for her undersized body.

Amelia had taken her there and then and presented Constance with the creature that very afternoon. Constance, upon seeing the animal in Amelia's arms, had gone as white as a sheet, and stood stock-still, unblinking and unspeaking. After repeating her name twice, Amelia had lowered the kitten to the floor and excused herself, wondering if she had done the wrong thing, and Constance, worryingly, did not turn to watch her leave. But Amelia didn't leave completely. She stayed outside and used a spell to discreetly watch as Constance, now having her heels mauled by the hungry, yowling creature, slowly blinked, then gracefully bent down and picked up the tiny kitten, holding her up to her gaze. The kitten had instantly raised her paw and playfully tapped away a tear from her cheek: in that moment, Amelia saw the brief ghost of a genuinely happy smile filter across Constance's features; the flicker of utter joy in her eyes at having something helpless to love. Constance then looked directly at where Amelia stood outside the room and vanished with her new companion curled around her neck. The following day, Amelia found a potted hydrangea in full bloom sitting upon her desk, accompanied by a four-worded note. And over a decade later, the plant was still alive.

There was no doubt whatsoever in Amelia's mind that Morgana was keeper to all of Constance's secrets; she had certainly kept them all at arm's length over the years. And yet in many ways Constance was like a daughter to her. Not an overly close one, granted. Amelia had not actively chosen not to have children, exactly. Somehow it had just … passed her by. In truth, her pupils were like her children, and having been in charge of Cackle's for such a long time, the opportunity never really arose for romance and eventual family. She had employed many staff over the years; some had remained life-long friends, others came and went as merely professional colleagues. Except for Davina, who was as big a part of Cackle's as Amelia. But Constance had broken the mould. She had brought something to Cackle's that the establishment had never had before. Amelia didn't know how she – or her staff – would have coped if they had lost her … They had come close prior to now: it was like a bombshell had been dropped when Constance announced last year she would resign should Cackle's be relocated. But after being faced with losing her again, and like this …

Amelia felt guilt tripping back into her mind. All she wanted to do now was mother her; protect her. For years it had seemed like she didn't need anyone … now it was so very obvious that she did. Amelia wondered if people who claimed to be content alone, and content to spend their time alone, and content to be without real friends are ever truly happy? Or are they just lying to themselves as well as everyone around them? It was as if Constance had lived all this time on a knife edge; self-protective to everyone and everything that came remotely close to the person inside. She had tried so long to be anything but who she really was, it was as if she had forgotten how to live. Oh, she could not be faulted as a professional woman: everything she did was done with precision; everything done to perfection, and she had an obsessive nature with regard to her work and responsibilities: she always demanded the best from her pupils, and she always received it. And not one pupil to ever graduate from Cackle's left with anything to say to her but a heartfelt thank you; every girl to achieve their Witches' Higher Certificate knew they had gained it through her hard work as well as their own.

Constance had the capacity to be the most well-loved teacher at Cackle's … Amelia smiled: perhaps she already was? Look at what the girls had done to stop her leaving; they had shown the ever-irritating Mr Hallow they meant business and were not prepared to be without their potions teacher.

A bird suddenly whizzed passed her, and Amelia shuddered as the image of her previously resilient deputy in such a state entered her thoughts once more. She had never seen her so scared. But she wasn't just scared. It was beyond scared. Amelia would never have believed it possible for a person to be so terrified; to be so overwhelmingly afraid they could completely collapse, and not just once, but twice. She had seen phobic pupils screaming over spiders or cockroaches; she had seen Davina on occasion have panic attacks and retreat to the stationery cupboard for days at a time, along with the eventual contents of the school's fruit supplies. And she had witnessed events in her own past which had been stressful and demanding of her time and energy, where she was needed to be the voice of reason for others. But nothing could compare to this, and nothing could have prepared her for Constance's final scream … Amelia let out a small sob, her mind taken back to the fresh memories of an hour ago, instantly provoking a new wash of tears. She thought the first time she saw Constance suffer a nightmare had been harrowing. She never expected to see it repeated so many times, let alone one so traumatic; the sound was like an animal's howl, and it would remain forever etched upon her mind.

Herbert had left the room only seconds before with two nurses, wanting to have a quick word. Constance had obviously been dreaming still, but had seemed relatively undisturbed. Then, it changed, as if heralded by the weather itself: an earthquake-like crash of thunder deafened the room, and Constance began to scream: chaos had then ensued. Constance, in consciousness, was still too weak to sit up on her own, but her unconscious body had fought, pulled and wrestled so intensely, her actions had physically torn a sewn-in fixture from her skin before it could be prevented. The already sounding emergency alarm was joined by another, both blaring with ear-splitting volume along with the rapid bleeping of Constance's audible heartbeat. The staff had rushed in one after another, all shouting orders above the din. By that stage, Mildred and Herbert had taken a side each, forcefully pinning the screaming woman down. But Constance had retaliated, too far gone in her immense panic to realise what was happening, and Amelia had stepped back and watched it all.

Herbert had had to react fast, yelling for emergency sedation, one hand gripping Constance's gushing wrist with a couple of quickly grabbed paper towels and his other arm pressing her shoulder down. Mildred was opposite him, holding her in a half-embrace, the pair desperately trying to keep her still and bring her out of her terror-filled slumber as the nurses and two junior doctors drew up suitable medication, between them gathering supplies and dealing with the equipment. And then, everything stopped. Constance, having shook and screamed so unrelentingly, let out a final lingering, unearthly scream and fell unconscious in a manner so abrupt and unexpected, Amelia had gripped the sink and retched in shock, fearing for one stomach-churning moment the worst possible scenario had actually happened. Only when she heard Constance's heart beating in its slow, calmed rhythm was she able to move from her place and across to Mildred, who had placed herself next to her limp teacher and was silently releasing her own tears, rubbing Constance's hand gently within her own trembling limbs.

Amelia, upon seeing the copious mess created, had taken the liberty of casting a couple of spells to aid the staff while they attended to her deputy's pressing needs. Dr McNeale had arrived at that point and duly examined Constance, thereafter allowing Mildred to sit on the bed beside her until she came round – not that Mildred had given the staff much choice in the matter. Amelia nipped into the corridor during this time, feeling somewhat ill – a feeling that became considerably worse as a rectangle stainless-steel trolley was solemnly wheeled past, which, Amelia suspected, tragically contained the critical patient mentioned by Charlotte earlier. She had felt both a pang of sympathy for the patient's family, but also tremendous relief that it was not the woman lying several feet away from her.

Amelia lifted one hand off her broom to wipe her eyes, noticing how tender the surrounding skin was, and likely from the five solid minutes of near-hysterical sobbing that had overcome her the very instant she reached the roof before departing. She had barely held her composure until that time, journeying to the top of the building with her feet hurrying and head low, mutely flowing tears dripping in quickening streams down her face. But upon placing her hat on her head, her weighty grief had broken completely free. Yet afterwards, she could not deny the respite she felt in releasing it, even if it proved to be temporary. She knew, somehow, things were far from over for Constance, or them.

Amelia sighed heavily: could she now begin to really be Constance's friend? To become more than simply a colleague? And would Constance even let her in? She gazed down at the fields full of grazing cattle, the ground so far beneath her blurring as she increased her speed with a palpable jerk as she sped through the sky.

She closed her eyes for a moment and pursed her lips: Constance had been prepared to give her life for theirs, and Amelia was not going to allow her to shut them out any longer, no matter what it took.

She glimpsed at her watch, raising her eyebrows at the time. _I had better get a move on, _she thought. _Imogen will be having kittens herself if Fenella and Griselda actually succeed in their plans. _

Imogen didn't exactly react well to the idea suggested a couple of days ago that they taught the first-years a few of the trickier potions. It seemed after the incident with the broom shed, Imogen was ready for a spell in hospital herself to recuperate. Not that Davina helped: her hysterics at Imogen's sports equipment now decorating the outside in colourful displays did not really improve matters. Amelia had to admit, using the extensive netting around the sides was a rather inventive way to keep the woodpeckers from creating holes in the wooden handles – something they seemed to adore doing, despite the wood being rootless and hardly as thick as a tree trunk. Then there were the multicoloured basket balls on top, painted brightly and transformed into larger squashy seats. Not to mention the tennis balls, now with bright blue spots, hanging in rows down from the front, threaded onto string like an oversized beaded door-curtain. Amelia was too impressed to be angry, although it was perhaps taking things a little bit too far to paint the goal posts and have them as an entrance gate to it.

* * *

Mildred stroked the brush in her hand once more over Constance's freshly washed hair, admiring the way it had turned itself into beautifully undulating locks as she combed it caringly.

Brenda and Charlotte, like previously, had watched fascinated as her hair was dried instantly.

"You'll really have to teach us that trick one day, Mil," Brenda commented cheerfully, utterly mesmerised. "It would be a heck of a time-saver!" She started to tidy around as Charlotte put down Constance's chart and came over to the bedside while Mildred replaced Constance's belongings and sat herself down.

"Right, love, mind you go easy with your wrist; it will be a bit sore for a while, but we'll keep our eye on it. You'll need the stitches in a few days, I think. We've sorted the machines, your lines and drips are okay, we've changed your cath, you're all lovely and clean again, and your wound is healing nicely. Anything else we can do for you?" Charlotte asked, smiling and tucking Constance in properly. Charlotte, like Brenda and the other staff, made a point of keeping the patients fully 'in the know', be them conscious or unconscious, finding it helped them to understand and appreciate their condition, treatments and anything they were unsure or nervous about, but could not necessarily tell them.

Constance shook her head and mouthed her thanks. She, although still only having indistinct sparks of memory, had a few recollections of being talked to by the staff, which, when trapped in one's body, effectively in a limbo, not awake and yet, on occasion, consciously aware, proved a great comfort. She recognised and remembered many voices. Some from before her comatose state, some during, and most after. But the clearest throughout was the young lady sitting beside her. The voice that had pleaded with her to come back. Pleaded so desperately, Constance had fought to answer it, in spite of the almost certain consequences to come.

Just then, Herbert came back into the room. "I've decided to take my holidays for the next few weeks or so, so I can stay here every day. Well, I say 'holidays', it's more a case of overtime in my free time, hence I can spend it how I like. And Hudson says it's fine. To be perfectly honest, I didn't exactly give him a choice in the matter. He'll pop back in and see you later." He smiled, fiddling with his tie.

Constance looked at him, an inquisitive expression on her face.

Mildred grinned back at him, tempted to ask if he had ever actually taken a holiday.

Unsurprisingly, Herbert casually picked up Constance's chart and started flicking through the clipped-on sheets, humming to himself. Mildred caught Constance's gaze and smirked. Constance rolled her eyes, pressing her lips together, able to feel dry bits of skin beginning to form. Mildred immediately stood and took the lip salve off the top of Constance's locker and gently rubbed some on her lips.

"Right, think you can behave while I nip out?" Herbert addressed the pair.

Mildred smiled. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Good. I won't be far away, just popping to the delicatessen's down the road. They do an absolutely splendid fresh chicken soup! It has to be said, that is one old wives' tale that seems to be based in fact. Think you can manage some of that, Constance?"

Constance looked less than enthralled. She quickly forced a small smile and nodded.

"Soup for you, too, Mil? Or a sandwich? Bagels?"

"Haven't you heard? Anything that isn't cold and greasy liver and onions I will eat!"

Herbert chuckled, noticing Constance's expression.

"Anything, please. I'm not fussy."

Herbert nodded. "I won't be long." With that, he left, leaving the pair alone.

Constance looked at Mildred and raised her eyebrows.

"I think he likes being around us … Well, you …" Mildred grinned back at her.

Constance sighed and shuffled back into her pillows, both the recent dose of medication and dregs of the Comatosation reaffirming their hold on her body.

"Hey …"

Constance opened her eyes and met Mildred's eyeline.

"Just remember … I'm right here with you … and I won't leave you on your own."

Constance stared for a second, blinking once, slowly.

Mildred drew her chair up closer, pulling it beneath her with her right hand, taking Constance's with her left. When she glanced up again, she knew Constance had already succumbed to deep slumber.

Mildred leaned back in her chair, reflecting on the morning's events. She barely registered the time on the large clock as her own eyelids began to close …

_**Mildred, for a few moments, simply sat clutching her cousin, breathing hard and fast in panic. Constance's head had dropped completely back, her limbs limp and her body motionless, rendering her a dead weight in Mildred's arms.**_

_**Mildred gingerly raised her shaking right hand and placed it on Constance's chest, releasing a strained cry of relief as she felt movement, and her heart beating still, pulsating beneath Mildred's palm. With both her arms and back aching from the burden of supporting Constance's torso, Mildred took a deep breath and half-heaved her unconscious teacher further onto her bed. She supported her upper body, lowering her head gently onto the pillow, and then took her legs, lifting them completely onto the blanketed mattress. **_

_**Mildred noted that she wasn't particularly heavy, but her height sure didn't help in manoeuvring her. It was a blessing Mildred was also tall and quite strong in her build. Mildred had never contemplated how similar she was to Constance before. Only now, after the momentous revelations of the night, could she see how much they were alike each other. Both were tall with long limbs. Both had deeply brunette hair – not black, but a step above. Mildred's, being almost always plaited was, naturally, wavy as a consequence, but even if left loose and damp, like Constance's, it curled of its own accord.**_

_**Both had pale skin. Both had alluring, if different coloured, eyes. Both could be quiet and withdrawn as well as vocal when the occasion called for it, and Constance especially knew precisely how to intone herself with cutting words which commanded instant conformance and respect. And while it was true Constance had a ballerina-like elegance and ladylike deportment, as well as her permanently ridged posture, which reinforced the dancer-esque appearance, where as Mildred was rather clumsy and graceless at the best of times, they were still not unalike each other. And now Mildred knew of their connection, she wondered how, when she grew a little older, she might resemble her further: in looks, in mannerisms and, eventually, one day, in her magical abilities.**_

_**Mildred sighed, looking at how Constance's feet dangled over the end of the bed, passing through the gaps in bedstead and hanging beyond the edge, proving that Cackle's beds really were too small. She sat staring at her, unable to move her eyes from her oddly hypnotising form. Constance's skin was beyond pale; clammy-looking, and her eyes were darkly rimmed, as if her life force had been drained from her. **_

_**Mildred gently took Constance's wrist, finding that her pulse was once again lacking in a regular rhythm. If it wasn't for her chest moving slightly, it would be difficult to determine that she was actually breathing; her previous gasps for air had been replaced with an eerie, unsettling silence. Her face was relaxed, the muscles no longer tense and contorted from pain and fear. Consciousness had left her, and Mildred, had she not been scared out of her wits, would have otherwise been considerably enchanted by the ethereal expression of her features: despite the fact she looked ghastly in colour, or lack thereof, she also looked strangely beautiful, almost like she was of another world.**_

_**Mildred was still trying to digest the sheer amount of information that had been thrust upon her, and the process of absorbing it was making her feel quite ill herself. A nauseating sort of sensation in her head and stomach, as if she was perched upon a rocking boat and large, hot hands were pressing upon her skull, crushing her overworked brain harder and harder, smaller and smaller. She couldn't take in everything she had been told, but knew, somehow, she had to. She had to take it in.**_

_**She picked up the Almanac from its fallen landing place the floor, watching mesmerised as it glowed vividly while her fingertips scanned through the pages. The texture of the binding gave her the creeps. It seemed too … familiar. Closing it with a shudder, she set it down beside Constance's legs, sitting back and stretching her stiff spine. She let out a slow breath as she began thinking, repeating the conversation just past in her head, waiting helplessly for Constance to come round.**_

_**Some time later, Constance suddenly groaned, turning her head and moving her eyelids little by little, struggling to keep them open. Finally, after blinking several times, her eyes widened progressively, her dim, blurry vision focusing as she became aware of her surroundings once more. She was unnerved to see Mildred watching her so intently. Almost immediately, she made to sit up.**_

_**"Oh, no. No, you don't. Lie back. You've been out of it for nearly an hour."**_

_**Mildred lightly pressed her form mistress back onto the pillow, barely comprehending the fact she had just ordered THE Miss Hardbroom to lie down.**_

_**Constance observed her carefully: Mildred's face was not showing any indication of what she was thinking. **_

_**Mildred edged closer to her. "Are … are you okay?"**_

_**Constance nodded slightly, taking a deep breath.**_

_**Mildred watched her for a moment, partly longing to ask so many things but hardly knowing where to start, and partly mindful of how very ill her teacher looked. Although her patience of being dismissed over certain questions on occasion throughout the night was waning, her conscience was urging her not to sap Constance's limited energy further.**_

_**Constance seemed to pick up on this. "What is it you want to ask me, Mildred?" she said softly; not a whisper, exactly – her voice was its usual firm, no-nonsense self, but it was blatantly lacking in strength.**_

_**"Did … did you know about the connections before my grandmother contacted you?"**_

_**Constance met her eyes. "No, Mildred. I did not."**_

_**Mildred leaned back a little, her mind rapidly flashing through the various run-ins she had encountered with her over the years. True, in most of the incidents she had probably gone a bit too far …**_

_**But let's face it, she thought, half of the time it was down to Ethel!**_

_**Constance was staring at her apprehensively, almost as if she was expecting Mildred to start physically attacking her for withholding so many details about her life – their lives – from her.**_

_**Mildred noticed how she had seemingly withdrawn and stiffened. "I … I'm not angry with you. I'm … I'm not … I don't know how I feel … What … what if the others are already entranced tomorrow?"**_

_**"Then you must come to me immediately." **_

_**"What if she's entranced you?"**_

_**"Trust me, she will not attempt it."**_

_**Constance lifted up her arms and pushed herself up carefully, avoiding Mildred's gaze. She drew a few slow breaths, her head dipping back with fatigue, evidently still suffering the ill-effects of her collapse.**_

_**"I … I didn't thank you for … for what you did for me … What … what was that … that potion, Miss?"**_

_**Constance raised her head slightly.**_

_**Mildred, although deep down she knew already, had to ask her next question; she had tried earlier and been brushed off, assuming it was due to more pressing matters. She knew it had been 'serious' – Constance had ascertained that herself at the beginning of the evening. But she needed the confirmation for herself. She had been morbidly curious to know precisely what it was, as well still internally reeling over the otherwise possible outcome.**_

_**"W-would … would it have killed me …?" she asked, not really comprehending the full meaning of the words.**_

_**Constance looked into her eyes, knowing that there was little point in patently lying when Mildred would have felt the effects and realised how dire they were, but having fleetingly considered the implications of telling her precisely what it would have done, settled with bypassing the query as reticently as possible.**_

_**"It is ultimately a poison, Mildred; I will not lie to you about that. But not all poisons are fatal when they have suitable antidotes."**_

_**Mildred swallowed, having anticipated that Constance would neglect to fully answer her question. Still, she had given her enough to understand its purpose, and likely intention. But she knew that, although her teacher could detect most potions by their smell or perhaps distinctive colour, her reaction this time was not one she had ever witnessed before: the expression she had beheld was one of pure terror, as if her veins themselves had been replaced with ice.**_

_**"H-how … did you …? I … I saw your face … You knew what it was …"**_

_**Constance flicked her head up sharply, her body's defensive movement illustrating her reaction to the query. "It is of no consequence, Mildred. It is in the past."**_

_**"But … you said it was from this book … If you expect me to trust you then I think you should trust me," she replied quickly; the second sentence had tumbled from her mouth before she could stop it. It had not been what she had meant to say at all, truly it hadn't. And once upon a time, she would never have dared question Miss Hardbroom further. Somehow, the events of the night and, indeed, the events of the last year had given her the extra courage she needed to stand her ground. But her reply had been more abrupt than she intended.**_

_**Constance lifted herself up further and leaned her head against the bedstead, staring at the book by her legs.**_

_**Mildred was about to apologise at her insensitivity but held back as Constance began to talk.**_

_**"I … Henbane and Hecketty took over my …" She trailed off and swallowed, taking a breath, her weakness apparent. "They took over my care when my parents died when I was nine. The … police tracked down Hecketty at the Witch Training College through our family's records; they did not inconvenience themselves in looking further afield. I was unaware of your grandmother's location as any records or photographs pertaining to her or anyone else's existence were …" She stopped and cleared her throat. "Destroyed … They … over the years they …"**_

_**Constance couldn't do it. She couldn't tell her. How could she tell her when she had never physically told another soul? And the logical, professional part of her brain was screaming that it was wrong: that purging her past upon her charge; upon her young, impressionable pupil, regardless of their biological connection, was an unbreakable rule. Perhaps she deserved to know. Deserved to be prepared. But not now. Later. When it was all over …**_

_**Mildred opened her mouth to speak and suddenly heard a voice as clear as someone whispering in her ear. She gasped, causing Constance to look up, eyeing her quizzically. **_

_**"They tested things on you …"**_

_**Constance froze. "Wh-what did you say?"**_

_**Mildred could feel a lump forming in her throat. She swallowed forcefully for the hundredth time that night, feeling bile rising up her gullet.**_

_**"T-they …"**_

_**"Mildred …" Constance's voice was a mere whisper, her eyes widening with paralysing fear.**_

_**"They … tested things on you … and … on your f-fifteenth birthday … H-Henbane s-spiked … y-your tea … she … A-asth-m-maticul-laris …"**_

_**Constance had to clamp her mouth closed to prevent her vomiting, jolted to the core: Mildred was already able to tap into her mind, just like Gabriella had done. She was reading the very words she could not say to her. The memories she could not reveal. The torturous past that haunted her dreams.**_

_**"They ... t-they … n-nearly let you … and when you t-tried to l-leave … t-they …" Mildred could feel hot tears streaming down her face as she heard continuing voices in her head, incomprehensible words, evil, malicious noises, flashing images and screaming ... so much screaming ...**_

_**Mildred looked into Constance dark eyes: they were mirroring her own, silent droplets flowing over her white cheeks and lips quivering. **_

_**"Th—" Mildred leaped off the bed and flew to her window, pushing her desk beneath it to the side and fully opening the shutters with a bang, retching violently, her ears ringing and heart pounding the same way it had when she learned of her grandmother's death.**_

_**Constance immediately sat bolt upright, momentarily swaying with dizziness and gripping the bed as she stood and quickly went over to her.**_

_**Mildred was trembling from head to toe. Constance gingerly placed her arms around her shoulders, pulling back her hair and muttering a spell under her breath to calm her down, simultaneously blocking her mind, the same way she had done so many years ago to protect her best friend. It would not work forever, but long enough.**_

_**"I'm s-so s-sorry … I … d-didn't t-think you'd … I'm s-sorry … I'm s-sorry, M-Mildred, I'm sorry …" Constance stuttered as she tried to get the words to leave her mouth, her voice choked from exhaustion and suppressed emotion. She hadn't been prepared for this. Not this soon … Yet it could it have been a fluke provoked by the atmosphere between them: her full power was not yet in her control. **_

_**Constance knew that when a person is brought up without magical knowledge or when they don't believe in themselves; when they feel they are a single floundering fish in amongst sharks, they tend not to shine; she had seen it before with other pupils, and Mildred had been the same: no confidence, and without confidence, natural talents do not emerge. And now Mildred knew things about herself she had never imagined nor comprehended. She had struggled from day one because she didn't feel adequate, convinced she was useless and would never excel. Constance had watched her, and yet had done nothing. And her conduct had, admittedly, not aided her. On occasion she had given her chances, which Mildred had seemed to throw away at the first hurdle, even though it was not always her fault. And Constance's allowance of Ethel Hallow's often vindictive ways had broken Mildred's spirit further. Her guilt since finding out the truth had eaten away at her, even though she knew she was not to completely to blame, for she had not treated her any differently to any other pupil, had she? If anything she had tried harder with Mildred … But it did not stop her loathing herself for her quick temper and sometimes uncalled-for actions. **_

_**Constance had always known what she was, what she was meant to be, and Mildred now knew what she herself truly was: they were witches in blood, witches in body, and their souls belonged to magic.**_

_**Mildred began to cease retching as the spell took effect, her fingers tensely clawed into the windowsill. Everything she had ever thought; everything she had ever said; everything about the woman she had both respected and feared for years, her teacher and now-guardian, was wrong. And she knew that she had seen only a very small part of her horrendous … indescribably horrendous youth. The voices and pictures had gone, barricaded against further penetration. Her intrusion had not been intentional, but the revelations it had gained had hit her like a steel block, reinforcing in the most disturbing way possible the earlier revelations of the night: she had power. Real power. Power she didn't have to repeatedly study to gain. But why hadn't she known before? Surely she would have felt it there, inside her? Wouldn't she …? She couldn't think about it now. She couldn't think at all. She could do only one thing; the one thing that she knew above anything would help: she could cry.**_

_**Constance reached above Mildred's head and pulled the shutters to. "C-come on, y-you … you n-need to sleep, Mildred …" As Constance began to walk her away from the window, Mildred suddenly turned mid-pace, grabbed her waist and clung on, wrapping her arms around her tightly and burying her face in her chest, her still-present tears quickening to heaving sobs.**_

_**Constance, initially startled by her reaction, gradually placed her stiff arms around Mildred's shaking body, guiding her back over to the bed and sitting down. Mildred did not let go for several minutes, and Constance did not speak.**_

_**"Did …" Mildred gulped, swallowing salty droplets which were catching her mouth. "Did you know about … about my … p-power before Nanny –" Mildred let out a choked sob, sniffing pitifully. "T-told y-you?"**_

_**Constance drew back a little and cupped Mildred's face with her right hand, staring into her gaze.**_

_**"From the very second you entered this school, I sensed a difference about you, regardless of the various problems we have encountered over the years. I knew there was something, Mildred … But I did not envisage this."**_

_**Mildred clutched her harder, her cries bordering on hysteria with distress. Constance remained silent, allowing Mildred to let it out of her system, praying that the other girls, nor anyone else, could not hear her. She barely had the strength to sit up, and casting a spell to hinder the noise would be too much after casting only minutes ago; she could feel her level of consciousness draining from her like falling grains of sand in an hourglass. **_

_**Mildred continued to weep softly, her unbearable pain and anguish from the recent months surfacing with a vengeance. Constance remained distinctly stiff, still unable to comfort her the way she knew she should.**_

_**Eventually, Mildred's sobbing began to slow, every now and then erupting into an odd tear as another memory would strike, causing a fresh surge, until it tapered almost completely. She could both hear and feel Constance's heart beating at speed where her right ear was pressed against her chest.**_

_**"H-how … with Agatha … How did you know all t-this? You said you felt …"**_

_**For a moment she heard nothing, and then Constance spoke.**_

_**"I … just … felt … it felt wrong. Until today, I … I put it to the back of my mind – convinced myself I was being paranoid. But … the competition … and Agatha … then … it … everything … fit …"**_

_**"Everything? What fi—?"**_

_**Constance suddenly breathed in sharply – so sharply, Mildred pulled back, loosening her taut grip. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw how Constance's face had turned in colour once again; more pale than before, she looked ashen, almost grey, beads of sweat dripping down her temples as if she had been sprayed with water. Mildred hastily unlatched herself and helped her lay back against the pillow, sensing she would be safer lying down. Constance immediately slumped, her eyelids fluttering as she was hit by a vehement surge of dizziness, fighting against the blanket of blackness threatening to overcome her so soon after the last severe attack. Her entire body became overwhelming hot before the sensation drastically altered: she felt as if her feet had been immersed in icy water, aware of the numbness slowly working its way up her legs towards her feverish torso and head.**_

_**Mildred moved Constance's legs onto the bed and hurriedly grabbed a cardboard folder from her desk, rushing back over to the bed and fanning Constance's face, just like she had seen a dashing gentleman do to aid his swooning maiden in an old black-and-white film once.**_

_**Constance was twitching her hands, releasing sparks from her fingertips in frustration and turning her face towards the initially soothing, cool air, desperate to regain control of her senses. But then she began to shiver as the rest of her body turned colder and colder, as if shutting down into a state of hibernation.**_

_**Mildred reached out to touch Constance's trembling hand as her teacher tried to talk through her chattering teeth, but stopped short as Constance's breathing abruptly quietened and her head dropped back onto the pillow. Her eyes closed completely as she slipped back into her former state. Mildred flopped onto the bed beside her, defeated. And frightened. So incredibly frightened. What if Constance did this again? What if she didn't wake up and stay awake? Had performing the protection spell drained her too much? Was it her fault because she had reacted the way she did and caused her to have to cast again? What was she to do? Who could she go to? Could she go for Maud and test her first to make sure? She could feel heat beginning to burn behind her eyes as her fear seemed to increase all of a sudden. She sank to the floor bedside the bed, leaning her head against the edge, tears running silently down her face. She didn't know what to do. Terrified, and virtually alone, she began to sob once more, pressing her face against the mattress.**_

_**"W-what … w-what … d-do … I … P-please … w-what do I … d-do …?" Mildred's voice was pleading, distraught and shaky with helplessness as she cried through her words to an unresponsive audience.**_

_**Seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into periods of five, then ten, then twenty, and eventually Constance opened her eyes, immediately looking downwards at the trembling head and blurry glimpse of a hand poking up every now and then as Mildred rubbed her eyes, sniffing and releasing the odd nervous whimper. **_

_**Constance steadily moved her hand, lifting it and ever so gently stroking her fingertip against Mildred's head so as not to alarm her.**_

_**"D-don't b-be s-scared, M-Mil-d-dred …"**_

_**"M-Miss …?" Mildred looked up. Constance's eyelids were only open a little, but enough for Mildred to see her familiar dark hazel eyes locked into her gaze. "Oh, Miss …"**_

_**Mildred climbed up onto the bed beside her, not knowing precisely what to do or say. She was looking at her tentatively, half-afraid she would suddenly collapse again without warning. Constance saved her having to think of something by attempting to sit up.**_

_**"Er … don't you think …" Mildred stopped as Constance let out a breath, obviously exhausted by the mere action of propping up her body. Mildred automatically took her arm and helped her to rise against the scrunched-up pillow.**_

_**"T-thank … y-you …" Constance's speech was hesitant and uneven in sound, as if her disorientation caused previously had come back and was clouding her wits.**_

_**"Can … I … shall I get you some water?"**_

_**Constance shook her head very carefully, lest she set off another attack. "I … c-could n-not …" She took a slow breath, fearing that a single fast movement would invoke another episode over which she had no form of command.**_

_**Mildred could see the hollowness of Constance's cheeks lining her face in the dusky light, watching the way she had leaned her head back once more, eyes closed and breathing determinedly, focusing her mind on controlling her body, and not the other way around.**_

_**"I j-just … n-need … s-some t-time … It … w-will p-pass …" Constance began to shudder again involuntarily. **_

_**Mildred noticed how her hands were white with cold, and fingernails tinged almost purple. She went around to the other side of the bed and lifted the blanket upwards in order to wrap it best she could over her teacher before taking another blanket from her wardrobe. Constance opened her eyes as Mildred went to place the blanket on top.**_

_**Mildred lifted her gaze as she laid the material over Constance. "You … you're freezing, Miss …"**_

_**Constance nodded slightly, shivering and re-closing her eyes, too weak to speak any longer. She knew any attempt to move or shimmer away would result in an instant repeat and land her unconscious before she could stop it. Her collapses had become so frequent, intense and sudden, she knew it was only a matter of time before it was completely beyond her power.**_

_**Mildred paused, wondering if she should go ahead with her planned action. She swallowed nervously, sitting beside her, everything said between them over the course of the night flowing through her mind. She cautiously reached for Constance's thin hand, lying on her chest and clutching the blanket as a form of stability for her un-synched equilibrium, taking it and rubbing it gently within her own warm hands.**_

_**Constance flinched and opened her eyes. Mildred jumped at the sudden retraction as much as Constance had when Mildred touched her.**_

_**Mildred's expression was heartbreaking to behold, like a puppy discarded and abandoned the day after Christmas. "I … t-thought … it would h-help …"**_

_**Constance met her eyes for several seconds, unsure what to do. No one had tried to touch her so intimately since Gabriella – not without her instantaneous objection and insistent removal. She felt vulnerable. Unguarded. And too faint to think clearly. She didn't know how to react to her, and she was afraid; so terribly afraid to let her get even more attached when the circumstances were such as they were: she had suffered so much already. Constance could see the desperate need for affection in Mildred's mournful eyes, and it was cutting through her heart like a knife. Very slowly, as if placing her limb into a tank of poisonous snakes, Constance gradually gave her hand back to her. **_

_**Mildred lowered her head and sniffed, rubbing her icy skin ever so softly, cushioning her hand between her own, unable to stop what she had unwittingly witnessed pushing to the fore of her thoughts; she could even see the sardonic irony in the potion's name – fancy calling it after a condition which causes the same result? If she didn't know better, she'd think it was on purpose. How many other poisons in the world indicated what they did in merely the name? It dawned on her as she was caressing Constance's hand it would have been a laughable gesture in any other situation. Yes, she and Miss Hardbroom had engaged in a 'moment' together back when Mr Hallow attempted to sell the castle; a moment shared before either knew of what the future held … But still, the reaction that would be gained within the school – HB of all people allowing Mildred Hubble to hold her hand? She almost snorted in disbelief, but a second later, she tightened her grip slightly as a single tear ran down her face in realisation: she was touching her family for the first time in six months; family she didn't know she had left. Her blood was coursing through the veins of the woman before her. Her father's blood. Grandmother's blood. And she wasn't alone in the world any more. Despite everything she now knew; despite how long she had known her as a teacher, she could feel a swell of relief in her heart for the person she could now begin to know, and love, as her family. Mildred allowed herself a small inner smile as it sank in: she wasn't alone any more. **_

_**Pulling out of her thoughts, she noticed the absolute silence of her room, aware of only her own breathing. Glancing up, Mildred saw Constance's eyes had closed.**_

_**Constance, Mildred knew, had tried so hard, but her body had given in, too exhausted to fight a moment longer. She could do nothing now but sleep.**_

_**Some five hours later, Constance awoke to find Mildred curled up on the floor beside the bed, one hand still reaching up and clutching hers. Her eyes were closed, but face wet with half-dried tears.**_

_**Gathering as much energy as she could muster, Constance began to move, soothingly wiping Mildred's tears and coaxing her up into the bed, inwardly cursing herself for allowing her body to get the better of her. She pulled the sheet and both blankets over Mildred, muttering a spell under her breath as Mildred stirred, crying out mumbled words, more tears pouring down her cheeks as she slept, her grip still fiercely around Constance's fingers. As Mildred quietened, Constance slid out her hand and placed the Almanac just under the bed. She stood up straight, steadied herself and unlocked the door, turning to glance back at Mildred, now in a dreamless sleep. She bit her tongue as a single droplet ran down her face and past her trembling bottom lip, wishing she could break down there and then and release the pressure in her chest. Instead, she drew a deep breath and briskly brushed the wetness away. She left the room, soundlessly closing and re-locking the door behind her. She closed her eyes for a few seconds: a ring of white light surrounded Mildred's room briefly inside. Next to her bed, on her small dressing table, four corked phials of yellow liquid, and four pieces of paper appeared, containing the instructions and spells to be used later that day.**_

_**Constance continued to walk silently up the corridor back to her quarters, her left hand pressing along the wall, praying she could make it to her room in time, her gripping fingers barely supporting her diminishing strength …**_

* * *

"Hey, you two, wake up. Mil, Constance, wake up …"

Herbert was tapping Mildred's shoulder gently, standing beside her and looking in turn between her, the blood pressure machine's result and Constance as Brenda came into the room to check her observations.

"She's **never **dreaming still?" she said, walking over to the monitor, which, although indicating a slight increase in Constance's heartbeat, was not signalling a cause for concern.

Mildred opened her eyes and jumped, looking up at Herbert.

He looked back at her. "Please don't tell me **you're **starting with nightmares now …?"

Mildred swallowed and shook her head, looking past his body at Constance.

"She's all right, Mil." Herbert inclined his head towards Constance. "Just not come round yet." He smiled then glanced up at Brenda. "I came in about a minute ago. The pair of them were tossing a fair bit."

"I think you could do with some proper rest, honey," Brenda said to Mildred kindly. "I've never seen anyone as dedicated. She's very lucky to have you."

Mildred smiled. If anyone was lucky, it was her; she didn't dare to think how she would have coped if Constance's eyes had stayed closed.

Brenda took Constance's chart and began her duties as Mildred stood up to help Herbert unpack the things he had brought in with him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Herbert whispered.

"I … um … I'm fine. Probably just a bit overtired," Mildred assured him, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice.

Constance stirred as Mildred rattled several packets and arranged the food and juice cartons on a floating table Herbert had obviously wheeled in.

"Hello again," Herbert said, smiling as she opened her eyes.

Constance blinked a few times and gave a quick smile in return. "Could … could I have a drink, please?" she said, her voice very quiet, hoarse and dry.

Mildred could not have picked up the jug of water and poured a glass quicker if she had tried.

Herbert smiled as she partially held Constance up and put the straw in her mouth for her.

Constance took a long, evidently needed drink.

Replacing the glass, Mildred pushed the button on the remote control hanging from the bed-rail's side and raised the upper end of the bed slightly. Constance smirked as she was propped up a touch more.

"Suppose we could always attempt to enchant the beds at Cackle's …" Mildred giggled, giving a little wave to Brenda as she left.

Constance tutted in disapproval but couldn't help smiling.

Mildred opened and picked up the carton of still-warm soup and a spoon and, figuring it would be easier than Constance attempting to handle them, proceeded to deftly feed her.

Constance, trying to block out her last experience with chicken soup, obligingly sipped a very small mouthful. Tasting nothing like she had expected, she swallowed several more before indicating she had had sufficient.

Herbert smiled as Mildred showed him the amount left as she replaced the carton on the table, muttering softly, "Well, it's a start."

Mildred dabbed Constance's mouth with a tissue, then reached over for her little brown paper bag, wondering what was inside. She opened it and gave a short laugh at the contents before sitting back down beside Constance.

Constance closed her eyes again, retaking Mildred's offered, open and awaiting left hand.

"Do you want the bed lowering?"

Constance nodded, her eyes still closed. Mildred adjusted the bed and one-handedly picked up her lunch, glad she didn't care two hoots about calories. She began reading from her new _Witchcraft Weekly _magazine. By the time she had read the title of the first page, Constance had fallen asleep.

_Well, Amelia, _Herbert thought, _whatever has gone off between them, I think it__'__s safe to say they have adopted each other, indeed._

He drew up a chair at the opposite side, taking his identical grilled sausage, bacon and poached egg-filled sandwich, perusing the newspaper he had brought in with him. He pulled back the sheet every now and again, glancing at Mildred stroking Constance's hand, satisfied at her heartbeat's steady rate in the background.

* * *

Amelia approached the familiar turrets of Cackle's, just able to make out Imogen apparently banging her head against the wall by the main entrance. Clucking about on the ground in front of her looked to be fifteen or so hens.

_Ah, _she thought. _Fenella and Griselda__'__s 'Potions and Spells Spectacular Display' has apparently not gone too well._

Amelia tried to keep her face straight as she lowered her broom, her heels scraping the ground as she touched down.

Imogen watched Amelia's expression as she neared her, and her headmistress was obviously desperately trying not to burst out laughing.

"Afternoon, Imogen. How um … how did this happen?"

Imogen looked back at her, rolled her eyes and continued banging the back of her head against the wall.

Davina stepped out of the open doorway and walked over to Amelia.

"It … um … seems that Imogen somewhat misinterpreted what the girls meant about playing 'chicken'."

Amelia turned her head away, near shaking with suppressed hysterics.

Imogen huffed nosily and stormed inside.

Amelia ran her hands over her face, breathing in deeply. It felt good to have some 'normality' after the morning she had had. And this was about as 'normal' as Cackle's ever got.

"How's Constance?" Davina linked arms with Amelia, telling her about the morning's happenings within the school, just as Egbert and Algernon arrived, announcing themselves in their usual theatrical style.

* * *

"Ready?" Enid asked, hovering as if she was on a joystick.

"I am," Maud replied.

"Me, too," Ethel said, grinning and itching to set off.

"Three … two … one … GO!" they shouted.

Enid, Maud and Ethel shot off from the ground, their broomsticks accelerating with vigour as they raced into the sky.

They flew for a few minutes, displaying various nose-diving techniques to each other, all three of them rosy-cheeked and their faces filled with genuine relaxation.

Enid glanced at Maud, who then glanced at Ethel: all three nodded and started their descent to the small clearing at the edge of the woods surrounding the castle. Coming into land, Enid's boots skimmed the greenery of the grassy meadow, and then Maud skidded beside her as Ethel gracefully hovered down.

Enid smirked. "Show off!"

Ethel smiled. "Practice!"

The three stepped over to just below a large pine tree, the shady branches sheltering them from the early afternoon sunshine, shimmering through the leaves and creating shadows on the bark.

Enid held up her hand and wiggled her fingers: a tartan picnic blanket appeared.

Maud followed: a wicker basket appeared.

Ethel held her breath, shooting sparks from her fingertips: three comfy camping chairs materialised and placed themselves at the side of the flattened blanket.

"Think Miss Bat will object to our, ah, borrowing this lot?" Maud said, giggling.

"Nah, she was mixing up a remedy for Miss Drill's pounding head!" Enid added, stretching out on the blanket with a yawn.

"I think I'd prefer the headache to the stomach ache she's going to have shortly …" Ethel said, bouncing down next to Enid and dragging the wicker basket over and opening the lid.

Maud fell back into one of the chairs with a heavy sigh. "Of course, having tummy pain will take her mind off her aching head …" She cracked out laughing, raucously followed by the other two.

* * *

"Another slice, Egbert?" Amelia asked, holding a decorative blue plate virtually beneath his nose, upon which was the most indulgent-looking cream cake ever seen, possibly in all of history.

"No, thank you, Amelia. I think three is my limit," he said, patting his stomach.

"So, you were saying, Algernon …?" Imogen raised her head a little, lifting her cold, damp flannel up to see him better.

"Like I said, whoever teachers those girls magic needs their head seeing to!"

"But surely they didn't cause that much trouble. After all, there are only ten pupils, well, until later tonight, or are they going straight home? Can Phyllis cope?"

"Oh, no, she's insisting on them coming back to school," Egbert interrupted. "Miss Brothbottle and Miss Swoop are virtually normal; at least, I imagine they are what passes for normal. Miss Brothbottle certainly has a tongue on her. Phyllis is still having a few adjustment problems, but overall they are pretty unharmed by the whole business. But those girls really have too much energy for an old boy like me … It was lucky the rest were on their half-term trip. I dread to think how we would have managed, otherwise …"

Davina suddenly came through the staffroom door, carrying Morgana in her arms, over to the wooden trolley, where she took a saucer and put some milk on it, gently sitting Morgana on the floor in front of the dish. She smiled as Morgana gingerly started to drink, lapping up the creamy liquid without a murmur.

"Is she all right now?" Imogen asked, still a little stunned at how ill she had seemed only a couple of hours ago.

"I hope so. I used one of Constance's tonics, the one she normally uses to perk them up when they've been 'fixed'," Davina said, smirking as she noticed Egbert and Algernon absent-mindedly crossing their legs from the corner of her eye.

"How did you know what it was? In fact, what was it?" Imogen continued, not realising that Amelia had stiffened in her chair.

Davina straightened up fully and tapped her finger against her cheek. "I can't say for sure. If I was guessing, I'd say she was pining for Constance in some way, at least, that's the indication I get considering her general behaviour this last week. I've never seen a cat faint before, but I'm almost certain that's what happened. I've seen animals dreaming; cats especially seem to have nightmares. One of my old kitties used to dream whenever she ate cheese …"

Amelia cleared her throat, wanting to get off the topic of conversation. She had not revealed the unsavoury flip side of Constance's condition to her staff, and would not do so. She also felt certain that Morgana's state was a direct reflection of that of her mistress's. She took a sip of her tea and changed the subject.

"So, run this by me again, Egbert, just to clarify … It was the combination of ten sweet-toothed pupils with a penchant for open-air cooking, the left-behind owls, a misfired mass Animal Interpretation Spell, and the mishearing of the word 'mouse' over 'mousse' that led to the, ah, sticky situation this morning at Pentangle's?"

Egbert sank deep into his armchair and groaned. "Don't suppose you have another flannel handy, Imogen?"


	27. Chapter 27

***NCD doesn't even dare emerge from her shoebox … Instead, she indicates the white flag sticking out of the window (also the ****apple pies cooling on the ledge) and begs forgiveness for yet another marathon delay …***

Well, as you have likely gathered, my original 'quicker update' plan didn't quite go according to … well, plan.

I am afraid I can only offer my profuse apologies (again) and hope that you, as my much-loved and appreciated reading audience, will stick by me when I tell you that unfortunately, due to my current circumstances, I cannot guarantee when the next updates will come, only that I will try my very best to keep them more frequent than the gap between this and the former chapter.

Although the remaining chapters for part one of this two-part saga are already written – and have been for **well over **a year – they are not written to my taste, having developed my writing skills (I hope!) over time from the utterly **abysmal **state they once were. As such, although my story is set to remain the same, elements due to come later have been brought in now, and this, coupled with sorting the woefully horrendous grammar used previously, means that it takes time and energy, both of which are problematic for me. This chapter is triple-length as a small way of apology. (Yes, I combined three, and, no, it's unlikely I will continue with chapters of **this **length again, else I may end up provoking my own coma from exhaustion! Of course, this also means I'd be extremely grateful for triple-length reviews, too … *hint-hint* :D)

But I really do hope that you will remain with me throughout this journey, as FF is now a huge part of my life. My story has been planned down to the last detail from the start (and it began as a dream, of all things, lol), and this brings me to another factor, which I shall additionally mention here for the benefit of those who haven't read my profile page: **Kimmeth**, my dear friend *waves*, has recently posted her third in an unprecedented, unmatched (yes, that means you should go and read it after this!) trilogy of Worst Witch stories. And due to our mutual stories turning out to be more similar than we anticipated, but as a perfect example of 'great minds (debatable in my case, granted) thinking alike', I wish to reiterate again that, despite my story having been online previously for a time, as well, **none **of her work has been lifted from mine from either its original state or now, and vice versa. I know it seems such a trivial thing to mention, as it is unlikely anyone would comment, but we both try extremely hard with our writing to produce work of readable and enjoyable quality, and would both be extremely upset to be accused of copying, and not just from each other, but anyone.

And while on the subject of plugging others' works, I would like to draw attention to the fact that **HB's Favourite **is back with us *insert cheering here*, and, as she is another of my dearest friends, I hereby wish to publicly welcome her back into the fore! Also, check out **Blondie's** videos on You Tube (especially the one she did for me!), as she ranks as **the** Worst Witch video-maker of the century! And if you want to see the ACBD: Illustrated Guide, look up **RainbowAquila's** Deviant profile for her **spectacular **picture she did for me called _Meeting Morgana_! (**BMF** also did me some amazing artwork, but hers isn't online so use your imagination!) Oh, and there is the Roleplay feature currently needing budding actors *ahem, writers* on the forum! We really need some more characters' input! Me, Blondie, BMF, Nic Neptune and Duchene Fan can't do it all!

**Finally (yes, I am almost finished, dears), before we get to the nitty-gritty (as this chapter is rather, um, well, gritty), just to point out to those who didn't read it the first time (as they already know it's coming, obviously) that the content of this chapter includes a near-rape scene. I do not feel it is overly graphic, but it is, like many of my harrowing yet necessary scenes, completely integral to the storyline and, being the careful type I am, I wish you to consider this an extra formal warning. :)**

Until next time, my very, very appreciative and grateful thanks to my readers, as always, for your time and attention, and very special personal thanks to my dear friends who have been so patient in this difficult time for me and have stuck by me throughout (I'd name them all but I think I'd end up in trouble for the longest AN on record!). :)

NCD

X

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**UPDATED: 15****TH**** JULY 2010**

**WARNING: VERY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. MODERATE VIOLENCE INVOLVED. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

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**CHAPTER 27 **

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"Yes, I think that must be it … though my mother used to say that if the clue fits, it has to be right!" Herbert chuckled quietly, fidgeting in his chair and re-crossing his legs. "Last one, then. Fourteen down: _Seer rearranged lay in tarot CV minus T? _It's eleven letters – can you do it without the additional letters in?" He casually leaned back, waiting to see if Mildred could top her previous record-time answer of twelve seconds.

Mildred took another sip from her carton of juice and swallowed, glancing at Constance, who was deeply asleep beside her. "Clairvoyant," she said softly, a flash of memory running across her mind.

"Precisely what I was thinking, Mil." Herbert grinned and neatly wrote the answer in the spaces on the crossword with his pen, momentarily caught within his own moment of reminiscence.

"Do … you believe in psychics, Herbert?"

Herbert glanced up, and then slowly smiled. "Without a single shred of doubt in my mind." He looked directly at Mildred, sensing she wanted to talk. "Do you fancy a little trip out? Get some fresh air into your lungs? Maybe an ice-cream cone from the parlour on the corner?"

Mildred immediately looked again at Constance, mulling over the offer. On the one hand, she felt she could talk to Herbert about anything, and trust him with the information, but … on the other, there was a part of her not ready to share a portion of the details yet unknown beyond her and Constance. And she also would never forgive herself if Constance was to wake up and find her gone when she most needed her.

"N-no … but thank you … I … I want to make sure I'm here, you know … just in case."

"All right. Well, I'm going to pop out for a bit – stretch my legs and burn off that sandwich! Are you going to be okay until I come back?"

Mildred gave a small smile and nodded. "Yeah. I think the medication is working." She was already sitting very close to Constance, firmly holding her hand, but she had become rather adept at moving her chair even closer of late.

Herbert smiled and handed her his newspaper to read. "I bet you can do the cryptic one all on your own tomorrow. You are rather annoyingly quicker than I am … " He winked, picked up his bits and pieces and left the room, glancing back briefly to see Mildred placing the paper down and lying her head on the edge of the bed, still clasping Constance's hand.

The need for Mildred to touch her was so strong, it was indescribable … Like a pull of magnetism … And that irrepressible need had been there since that Friday night. She had almost lost her so many times, and now it was as if she was scared the Angel of Death would come when she wasn't looking and snatch Constance away from her for good.

Mildred sighed and looked up, watching Constance's breathing. It was so soft. So … mellow. She seemed so peacefully unaware of the machines around her, of the equipment attached to her body, of the nurses checking her condition, and of the audible signals continuously monitoring her.

But Mildred knew it could change so unexpectedly, and although she wanted to believe nothing else untoward would happen, she wasn't willing to take that risk. It didn't matter if Constance was in another month; she was staying every step of the way with her, come what may. Yes, it was a little boring at times … tedious … It wasn't exactly the height of entertainment to watch someone sleep all the time – even Prince Charming must have had a way to pass the hours! She knew she shouldn't feel like that or complain in any way, and she hadn't, nor would she. It would be … wrong … inconsiderate – after all, Constance had nearly paid with her life, and left Mildred forever.

Mildred knew it would take time, perhaps more so now than previously. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was recovering. Mildred, as a pupil, was obviously as concerned as any other pupil for her welfare as a teacher; a teacher she respected above all the others, even Miss Cackle.

But it was not the main reason; it came down to a single fact: Constance was her family. Her true, blood kin, and even though Mildred knew biology wasn't always the be all and end all in relationships, it still made the extra difference to her – Constance was not only her future, but she was also the last remaining link to her past … At least, the last link she would ever acknowledge as her family.

And their bond was not just in blood. It was stronger than merely blood.

Somehow, Mildred knew it was stronger than anything she had experienced before, even her love for her parents and grandmother, and the realisation of that made her feel guilty, disloyal and ashamed – almost as if she was comparing them in some way; comparing them to someone she had never thought of as more than a brilliant but fearsome woman; a woman so unlike her mother, sterner than her grandmother, and unlike her father, who Mildred could wrap around her little finger from the day she was born, Miss Hardbroom from the very start had been someone not to cross. But now both Mildred and Constance had changed, because their lives had changed, and changed beyond recognition. Mildred shook her head slightly. She still couldn't make sense of it all in her mind, and trying to dissect her feelings and fathom the abundant knowledge crammed into her brain seemed too much to handle. The knowledge was becoming steadily burdensome from being unshared, but, in a strange way, felt oddly good at the same time, as if she was harbouring a great, special secret … Yet the darker elements chipped in every now and then; the few brief moments she had connected with Constance's memories would resurface and give her a fleeting jolt in her heart – the same type one gets in a history lesson or suchlike: when it dawns upon those reading of the horrors of human nature that such social atrocities really did happen; that people existed – still exist – in completely immoral form; people who then, and now, would stop at nothing to gain power, be it magical or mortal authority over others. And there were also the inner meanings to deal with; the little things within the vast array of Mildred's thoughts, all still mostly unprocessed, and trying to comprehend it all always seemed to induce a nasty headache within a few minutes. Somehow, Mildred just … knew. Knew she was experiencing a connection unlike anything she had ever conceived before. And her grandmother's words had been very clear: _Stay safe, my darling, and always look after each other. _

_**Always**__ look after __**each other**__, _Mildred thought. And that was her task now. Her job. And her responsibility as much as Constance's.

Mildred knew she was safe with Constance, and she would make sure Constance was safe with her. She was never going to let her go again.

Mildred sniffed and gently moved her hand a little, admiring Constance's lengthening oval fingernails, the tips naturally rounded, wondering if she could ever convince her to let her paint them some garishly trendy colour while she was still convalescing …

_They'd look stunning in red, _she thought. _Or lilac. Green. Gold and glittery with stars of silver in the middle …_

As if Constance knew what Mildred was thinking, she briefly opened her eyes and gave her a knowing smile before closing them again, teasingly nipping her hand.

Mildred giggled, sitting up and taking Herbert's paper, hearing a breathed sigh as Constance drifted back into slumber …

_**"Oh, come on, please? You've done more than enough to deserve this – last one done and there's no way either of us will fail … Oh, come on – we have to go out and celebrate!" Gabriella urged her friend giddily, bouncing up and down on her bed. **_

_**Constance watched her, shaking her head slightly in exasperation, trying to hide her amusement at her best friend's complete lack of deportment. Try as she might to relax and share Gabriella's enthusiasm, she didn't feel like jumping for joy.**_

_**"I'd really rather not, Gab. I'm just not in the mo—"**_

_**"You're coming out with me and that is final – I'm not letting these tickets go to waste! And she can't technically stop you as every member of staff –" Gabriella stopped and whispered, sensing one of the other matrons nearby outside their room, "well, the decent ones, anyway, will want to know why you've not joined in! And I've **__**–**_ well, Dawn and I have discovered a way to get around the 'problem'!" Gabriella insisted, leaping off her bed. As she landed, the thud of her toes hitting the floor was accompanied by a yelp as she bent over on impact, clutching her arm across her stomach.

_**"You told me that pain had gone!" Constance said loudly, standing up and moving towards her. "Why don't you go to Dawn or let ME help?" **_

_**Gabriella straightened, slowly breathing outwards, her grimace fading into her usual glittering smile as the pain ebbed away as quickly as it had arrived. "It's nothing, Constance … Trust me, I'm psychic!" She giggled, a little breathless. "Just a … pulled muscle or something … really. Now, what CAN we dress you in?" She took Constance's hand and pulled her towards her wardrobe, humming a show tune and ignoring her friend's rolling eyes.**_

_**Several hours later, Constance found herself sitting in a cramped, dingy corner inside a somewhat crowded public house. Or as Gabriella had pointedly referred to it earlier as 'the-best-bar-in-town-provided-you-ignore-the-back-alley-behind-it-and-avoid-the-sleazy-barman-after-ten-o'clock!'.**_

_**"I can't believe you made me wear this … this …" Constance muttered, frowning downwards with a distasteful expression on her face, absent-mindedly adjusting her matching embroidered shawl more over to cover her upper arms and pulling the lower half of the garment over her knees. **_

_**"Cocktail dress. And I've told you before you look really lovely in white. You should keep it, actually, suits you better than this one suits me. At least I managed to alter it fit you, Sparrowlegs!" Gabriella teased affectionately, nudging her arm.**_

_**Constance laughed, kicking her leg playfully to the side. "Shut up, Thumbelina!"**_

_**"What time is it?"**_

_**"Five minutes since you last asked me, Gab!" **_

_**"I'm so excited! It's the first time The Kidwizaerds have been anywhere near here, and to think they chose this place – maybe they are looking for WTC graduates to date!"**_

_**"Oh, for goodness' sake, Gab – they are a puffed-up bunch of twenty-something's acting like hormonally challenged teenagers, and they have yet to develop brains let alone singing skills!"**_

_**"You know, if I didn't know better, Sparrow, I'd say you really weren't that keen on them." Gabriella grinned, raising her arms above her head and stretching. "What time is it now?"**_

_**Constance took a small sip of her orange juice, looking upwards and sighing heavily. "Gab, just because I can see through walls when the occasion calls for it does not mean I wish to perform it like a monkey! And it is almost exactly twenty-six minutes past nine," Constance added, viewing the brass wall clock in the adjacent room. "They are late – how very unprofessional."**_

_**Gabriella laughed and fiddled with her amethyst necklace. "I'm really going to have to buy another watch one of these days. I just couldn't bear to change the bluebird back."**_

_**"Gab, it is only a very short lifespan for a conjured creature, why on earth y—"**_

_**"I'm a softie, what can I say?" Gabriella interjected, grimacing for a split second as she stood up. "Ah, sounds like they have arrived. I'm just going to nip to the loo before they get started. Be back soon. Do you want another drink getting upon my return, my brunette maiden?" she asked with a wide smile, accompanied with a mock bow.**_

_**Constance raised an eyebrow while tapping her glass with her long fingernail, which was still almost full to the brim, noticing how Gabriella was holding her hand across her waist.**_

_**"I am taking you to see Dawn tomorrow if I have to shrink you further and carry you there in a jam jar."**_

_**"I'm fine! How many more times?"**_

_**"Gab, you've had this pain for weeks – people don't have pulled muscles for weeks, and you think I haven't noticed that it's worse whenever you've eaten something? You've not even touched your drink, either, and you're usually thirstier than a fish at any given time!"**_

_**Gabriella shrugged, trying to keep her nonchalant expression. "Constance, I'm fine, really … don't worry."**_

_**Constance looked up at her, narrowing her eyes. "So why have you been blocking me?"**_

_**Gabriella cursed inwardly and absent-mindedly bit her lip in guilt, then cleared her throat, appearing not to know what Constance was talking about. "Um, pardon?"**_

_**Constance's eyes were glazed, and visibly showing her wounded heart: she knew Gabriella had built up an inner barrier – a move so often performed by Constance herself. She had let it ride until now, sure there must be a logical explanation – it could even have been her own power's shortcomings: after her last altercation with Hecketty, she had been less than well for a number of weeks, and both their energies had been fully focused on passing their final year. Somehow it hadn't seemed so important until now, but Gabriella's reaction to her question said it all: it was deliberate. **_

_**"I …" Gabriella gave a little cough and laughed. "Damn, you're good!"**_

_**Constance did not smile as Gabriella had expected. She didn't laugh. She didn't even blink. She drew a breath and lowered her tone. She hadn't wanted a confrontation, but now it was too late, and her inner pain was spurring her on to push for the truth. **_

_**"Why are you blocking me, Gab?"**_

_**Gabriella stopped laughing and met her eyes, but said nothing.**_

_**Constance opened her mouth to speak when a young blonde-haired man approached their table. He was quite tall, lanky in build and smartly dressed in a stiff-collared red silk shirt, black tie, evidently designer cream trousers, judging by the quality, and shiny black shoes. His hair was flyaway in style, jaw long and angled, and sly-looking eyes piercingly blue.**_

_**"You two beautiful ladies really shouldn't be over here all by yourselves – would you do my brother and I the honour of joining us? Our table is right in front of the stage."**_

_**Constance quickly glanced behind him at the abundant number of people congregating by the small platform at the back of the room. Her vision was then blocked as another man neared, and if he was the brother of this person, then they must have had very odd parents or else suspiciously rogue genetics.**_

_**The new man stood beside the one before the pair, towering over him in height and rubbing his burly, rough-looking hands together energetically, sniffing pointedly through his crooked nose. **_

_**"Now, which one of you ladies would like to help warm me up?" he said eagerly, running his tongue over a sharp-looking set of gold canine teeth and folding his leather-covered bulky arms.**_

_**Gabriella cleared her throat and sat back down, feeling Constance stiffen and claw her hands beneath the table next to her.**_

_**"Actually, we are quite happy here, but thank you all the same, boys."**_

_**The jacket-clad man raised a dark, scruffy eyebrow, his forehead wrinkling considerably, indicating he was much older than they were. He ran his hand across his bumpy-looking shaven head and brought his fingers to his bristly chin, absent-mindedly tapping his oversized foot to the rhythm of the band tuning-up behind him. **_

_**"I do apologise, ladies. That line usually works quite well for Kobe and I. I am Felix, by the way," the blonde-haired man quickly added, laughing unconvincingly. "Can we at least buy you both a drink?" **_

_**Constance pointed to their full glasses and politely declined with thanks.**_

_**"I suppose you are from that manor house, are you?" Kobe asked, an underlying tone of annoyance in his voice. He repositioned his legs, causing the material of his matching black leather trousers to squeak unpleasantly.**_

_**"And what is it to you?" Gabriella replied curtly, growing increasingly uneasy with the pair.**_

_**"Now, now, Kobe, don't be so rude. We have a common interest, that's all, m'dear. Well, if you change your minds …" Felix raised his hand and tipped his head as if wearing a hat, beckoning Kobe to follow him back into the growing crowd. **_

_**Gabriella waited until they had melded into the bustling bodies before speaking.**_

_**"Creeps. Total and utter creeps – and brothers? Pah! Not in a month of Sundays. More like the pretentious prince and his brainless bodyguard. Felix and Kobe? More like Dr Frankenstein and Lurch! I'm glad I carry my cuticle scissors around with me!" Gabriella laughed then winced, grasping the table as she stood up.**_

_**"Gab?" Constance could see the tears of pain welling in her eyes. "Gabby, please, please tell me what's wrong?"**_

_**"N-nothing … just women's problems. I'll … b-be back in a minute." She wrapped her green satin cape around her shoulders and repositioned her handbag. **_

_**"I'll join you."**_

_**"Constance, I'm fine, and that's what you always tell me!"**_

_**"You are not fine!"**_

_**"For fuck's sake, Constance, DROP IT! It's hard enough as it is!"**_

_**Constance stopped moving, stunned. There were two things Gabriella rarely did – shout or swear, and the latter only when pushed. And she had just done both to her closest companion.**_

_**Gabriella looked at her silently for a second before mouthing she wouldn't be long and hurrying away.**_

_**Constance watched her heading for the toilets, located near the back exit doors of the building, making a mind to continue their conversation when she returned until she got straight answers. Gabriella hadn't been herself of late. Constance had put it down to the events some four months ago and exam stress, but she had noticed that her friend had been losing weight, which, given she was literally a carbon copy of a garden fairy to begin with, was saying something. Constance lifted her drink, thinking and taking a slow sip, the clinking ice sounding as she tipped the glass, looking at Gabriella's untouched orange juice. There was something wrong. She knew there was. Constance could remember coming round in the infirmary, and Gabriella was with her as much as possible during her almost month-long stay. But as the weeks had gone on, she had seemed … not distant … but … detached. Not physically, as such – nothing Constance could pinpoint in so many words, but it was as if Gabriella was preparing herself to say goodbye so far in advance it would make it less painful when the time came. Constance couldn't expect Gabriella to remain with her, and Hecketty would never allow the two to be near one another once they had graduated. She knew Gabriella had been advised to put her feelers out for work already by her other tutors, as the indications were she would get the highest grades on her degree. And Constance, too. But Constance's fate was almost certainly sealed. And she didn't know a way around it. Not really. Oh, she had a strategy: one part of her eventual plan was already in motion … but to succeed, it would mean once she had escaped, she would have to somehow make her own way in the world … And then there was another problem: how could she rely on her qualifications with them on her tail? Constance would be virtually a fugitive. Yes, she would have the physical certificate of her gained position; the proof in print of her educational accomplishments, but she wouldn't have references; no word-of-mouth praise about her character – it would be up to her to convince someone she was suited for her chosen profession, and hope that they would shelter her in her plight; shelter her from both her aunts themselves and their additional influence within the Witches' Guild and Federation. And for their benefit, Henbane and Hecketty had made certain that her studies had been documented from day one: every skill she had was in her record of achievement; after all – they were expecting her to recompense them, which meant they wanted Constance's status to be perceived as perfect in order for her to progress precisely how they wanted her to. Constance was, indeed, academically speaking, perfect. But the way in which her early education had been conducted would never enter her file.**_

_**Constance knew the world could be as cold and heartless as the very people she had grown up with, and she feared, in the end, she may be left with nothing … But to leave without completing her education would have surely resulted in a worse situation, and so she had stayed the course, and knew, ultimately, it was Gabriella who had pulled her through it. But Constance also knew Henbane and her twin would never let her go of her own free will … at least, not until they had gained what they desired. **_

_**Constance knew Gabriella was a very strong psychic, especially when she wanted to be, and Constance's telepathic abilities made the pair closer than average as each was as good as the other at reading into their thoughts and feelings. It wasn't an exact science, of course. Gabriella would often lament about how so many mistook being psychic as this wondrous ability to see well into the future and be able to plan everything, as if it was some miraculous inner crystal ball. They didn't realise the gift of second sight was as unpredictable and erratic as the British weather; that it fluctuated with the mood of the witch, governed by her emotions and linked into her power so strongly that one practically controlled the other. Psychics … the so-called 'natural' witches, and, in some cases, wizards as well. But for the ones whose powers told them things they didn't always want to know, they had to deal with the knowledge that the future was their destiny, and if they tried to change one aspect, fate would still swing the pendulum of life back to its correct path, and nothing could prevent – or stop – what was meant to be.**_

_**And Gabriella was hiding something. Constance herself was guilty of blocking her on occasion, but only to protect her. But what could Gabriella have to hide? They knew everything about each other – absolutely everything. Gabriella had read Constance like a book from day one, without Constance having to turn the pages for her; she had seen into her soul, and Constance had reciprocated, until a few months ago, when the pathway had become blocked.**_

_**Constance took another sip of her drink, feeling the coldness of the liquid sliding down her throat and into her stomach, the effects of which caused her to shiver. She leaned back, lowering her drink and listening to the din, wishing she was sitting by the lake and watching the recently born bats taking their first flight into the night. As she went to raise her glass again, she suddenly flew from her seat, ignoring the masses of liquid now pouring over the table and soaking into the beer mats, running towards the ladies' toilets, frantically trying to push past the heavily occupied tables and extra bystanders obstructing her path …**_

_**"Don't struggle so much, m'dear, you'll enjoy it better … You never know, you might like it …"**_

_**Gabriella released a stifled scream through gritted teeth as a cold, grasping hand was forcefully pushed beneath her dress and up her inner thigh, aware of searing pain in her wrists, pinned upwards and crossed behind her back by her own body, while the figure of the second man held her against the wall, one arm firmly pressed against her stomach like a metal bar and the other clamped around her throat, the hand so thickset and bulbous it was doubly effective in additionally compressing her jaw closed. Her attackers had her completely ensnared by their positions: one leaning in from her right-hand side, allowing the other's freedom directly before her. Gabriella struggled, trying to pull her hands to the front, grazing them along the coarse wall.**_

_**"OI! I don't think so, missy!" Kobe snarled, spitting his words out.**_

_**Gabriella kicked Felix, who was in front of her, with her pointed footwear. He recoiled and she kicked again, the shoe flying upwards into the air at speed. As it rebounded backwards and dropped it caught the side of Kobe's face, the metallic heel scratching his skin, causing him to momentarily release her neck. She began to scream as Felix let out a growl and lunged forwards, covering her mouth with his hand, stopping any further sound emerging as Kobe regained his hold around her throat. **_

_**"Scream all you like now …" Felix spat at her, re-wedging his feet between her now-crossed legs, prising them apart and instantly bruising her delicate ankles. He looked her dead in the eyes, thrusting his hand back up her dress and roughly fondling her body, ripping her nylon tights from her skin. "I always like it better when they are awake … Makes it more fun, more … dangerous … doing it the … hard way … Nothing like a struggling damsel in distress to make one feel thoroughly alive …"**_

_**"Why don't we just take her somewhere? It stinks of piss and there's bound to be rats around! You got her out here – why the hell can't you just use your magic again?" Kobe hissed, his gruff voice urgent and uneasy.**_

_**"Because, my dear fellow," Felix replied smoothly with an aristocratic tone, as if having a simple conversation about the time of day, "sorcery can be such a wearisome shortcut … Can you not feel the adrenaline rush, my friend? For a man of your dimensions and physical attributes, you really ought to demonstrate more masculinity in your persona …"**_

_**"You and your fucking big words!"**_

_**Gabriella tried to take a breath, her heart racing from paralysing fear and head engulfed from pain-induced dizziness. Her mind was foggy with confusion from their thoughts – and memories – pummelling her like giant rocks. How could she have been so stupid and naïve? She had gone to use the privacy of the pub's facilities in a rush, too uncomfortable to wait any longer and equally as distressed from her and Constance's tiff, and she had failed to notice the men watching her. She was upset, guilt-ridden and not on her guard. It wasn't until she emerged red-eyed from her cubicle and stood at the sink that she sensed the men hidden inside two of the six empty cubicles behind her. She knew they were perched upon the seats so she couldn't see their feet reflected in the long mirror above the sinks, but she could feel their minds, envisage their intentions, and she could hear the virtually inaudible buzzing of their protective shields swirling around their bodies. She knew already she couldn't use any of the usual counter spells against them. Standing frozen in place, thinking desperately, Gabriella had tried calling out to Constance with her mind, but to no avail: her inner barrier was shielding Constance from reading her, and she found herself unable to reach out beyond the confines of her own consciousness and invoke her power; it was as if she was behind several panes of glass, each one lessening the sound until it was muted completely. Aware the door had been magically sealed with an unfamiliar enchantment, and still nervously rubbing her hands beneath the trickling tap to buy time, she heard the hinges creaking. She turned and mentally recited a spell, resulting in the soap smothered upon her hands increasing in volume. As soon as the doors burst open, the bubbling foam then shot from her fingers towards their eyes. It hit them both by surprise, breaking through their barriers. The pair yelled obscenities as Gabriella flew towards the door, casting spells as fast as she could, attempting to break the door's seal. She was barely able to scream; what was coming out was nothing more than a series of panicked whimpers. Her legs felt like jelly, heavy and tingly, as if they could not support her, and her throat constricted into near silence from terror. She felt one of them yank her handbag's strap and pull her backwards, tossing the item violently to the side, the other grabbing a handful of her hair. She made to cast again, desperately trying to scream out to Constance with her mind, before suddenly doubling over in agony onto the floor.**_

_**The next thing she knew she was outside, trapped at the other side of the locked exit doors, shielded from direct view behind a car-sized lift-top dustbin, overflowing with rotting waste and used bottles. She could feel the darkening twilight surrounding the alleyway and hear the music playing on obliviously inside. Her body was chilled, but she was not shaking any longer; she was too petrified to shake. To petrified to breathe. She felt as if she wasn't really there; like it wasn't really her body they were about to assault; as if she was floating above, powerlessly watching it happen to someone else. Gabriella knew what was about to take place, and couldn't help but conclude it would be better not to know about it. Her mind was pleading with her to fight, but her body locking down, a voice inside her head telling her it would be over sooner if she just let go … Her eyelids began fluttering as the one at her right tightened his grip against her waist.**_

_**"She's going to faint before long – what is it with you and women?" Kobe laughed callously.**_

_**Felix glared at him. "At least I don't have to pay for it!"**_

_**The snappy retort brought Gabriella back to reality. She seized the opportunity and bit Felix's fingers with all her might, drawing blood from his tanned skin. He staggered back, crying out and clutching his bleeding hand.**_

_**"You little BITCH!" Kobe roared, backhanding her with force and grazing her cheek with the gold signet ring on his right hand. Gabriella's body slammed back against the wall then slid downwards and slumped sideways straight to the ground, her limbs collapsing beneath her.**_

_**Felix walked back over towards her, wrapping a black silk handkerchief around his hand. "She won't make any noise at all now. Pity." **_

_**Kobe grinned. "You really are a hard-hearted bastard."**_

_**"I know. But please, don't tell everyone. One must keep up one's appearances …" Felix grinned back, placing his hand in his pocket and pulling out a coin. "She's ever so like that little darling at Rothbart's broom-dancing club, don't you think? I'd sure pay to see her working her magic … Heads or tails, m'dear?" **_

_**"Like I ever get to go first, anyway! Just hurry up, and my eyes are still stinging!"**_

_**"You're such a baby. Clever ploy, though, one must admit. But I protected you against everything else, didn't I? What more do you want?"**_

_**"Well, it didn't work against that, did it? And I think it's worn off, anyway …"**_

_**"What's that on her dress?" Felix made to bend down when he turned along with the Kobe as a loud bang hit their ears.**_

_**"Get – away – from – her …" The tone was deep and soft, but said with an unnerving growl which cause both men to shudder involuntarily. Constance could feel the waves of their thoughts assaulting her senses; waves that had assailed her mind as she had frenziedly flown to Gabriella's aid. Their voices were in her head, crashing around her brain relentlessly. Constance had not heard Gabriella scream. She had felt it. It was muffled and weak, but terrified. She had flown to the bathroom, finding the door blockaded against penetration and sound. It had taken her only seconds to bypass it, using her acute senses to recognise and reveal the enchantment used. Seeing Gabriella's handbag on the floor, she had snatched it up in haste: instantly, non-stop pictures began feeding her mind like a video recording. The sounds, the actions, all becoming clear to her, and she was suddenly projected into the time slip of those several minutes previous, witnessing it all played out before her like a film reel from every aspect – the attackers, and their pray. Knowing time was against her, she had struggled to the exit doors, fighting to make herself heard against the pounding din of the building. The exit doors had been sealed with the very same enchantment, obviously to prevent an interruption of their plans, and she wasted no time in breaking through it, knowing she had to be ready for what she could see about to happen on the other side …**_

_**The men stepped back a few paces and squinted towards the trickle of light coming from the building into the nightfallen alleyway.**_

_**Constance was standing by the wide-open doors, surrounded by the lingering smoky remnants of the spell formally in place. In each of her hands she had a waiting bolt of Magilec.**_

_**"Ho, ho, what have we here? You don't scare me – you're not the only one with magic!" **_

_**Constance felt the doors swing shut behind her, bashing against her spine and propelling her forwards with a gust of wind. Felix smirked and instantly conjured a matching bolt and aimed it directly at her as Kobe backed a few paces further across to the other side of the alleyway. But Constance was ready, and faster. She took a single pace forwards and leaped high into the air like a puma, landing almost immediately between the two and sending a bolt towards each of the men. Felix hit the ground harshly as the bolt blasted him in the chest, but Kobe, having dived out of the way, went straight for Constance as she attempted to get to Gabriella, dragging her by her hair and punching his fist into her stomach before throwing her to the ground. She landed hard on her side, catching a large, bulging cobble against her chest as her left hand took the full brunt of the fall, causing two of her fingernails to be half-ripped from their nail beds, her skin slicing open from the impact. She felt the air rush out of her winded lungs and automatically closed her eyes as her body absorbed the shock of landing upon the concreted stones. A few seconds passed, and she could hear the heavy breathing of the figure standing over her.**_

_**Kobe knelt down to her still form, and Constance allowed him to turn her over, keeping her body seemingly lifeless – she had played this game before now. She felt him run a trembling hand across her body, her stomach turning over and heartbeat pulsating in her ears as the hand paused and rested above her waistline. She then felt a brush of breeze stroke her face as he stood, hearing his flat-footed steps trudge across to the other man's unmoving form, the sound almost drowned in volume by the music pumping out from within the building through a half-open window.**_

_**Constance cautiously opened her eyes, just able to make out the edge of Kobe's stout body leaning over Felix. She summoned a bolt and in one fluid movement turned in her position and blasted him off his feet, sending him crashing into the wall, resulting in him banging his head with such force it instantly knocked him out. Felix, lying facedown on the ground, groaned, still completely staggered after seeing the vision of a women jumping three times her own height and landing with the perfect precision of a cat. He looked at Constance for a split second before his head slumped with a sickening clunk.**_

_**Constance scrambled to her feet and ran over to Gabriella, unavoidable tears of pain running down her face from her badly bruised ribs and throbbing stomach and fingers.**_

_**"G-Gab … G-GABBY! O-oh … G-G-God … O-oh, G-God, oh, God …" Constance knelt down to her, hearing her bones cracking as legs half-collapsed beneath her, landing her heavily on the ground. As if on cue, the eerie orange moonlight formally covered by the clouds illuminated the alleyway, and Constance could fully see the lower chunk of a broken glass bottle sticking out of Gabriella's left side, blood seeping out at speed from its entry point and rapidly turning her green dress brown as the material absorbed the liquid like blotting paper.**_

_**"C-Const-tance …?"**_

_**"I'm h-here, I'm here, I've got you, Gab …"**_

_**Constance carefully lifted Gabriella's limp body upright, leaning her back against the wall.**_

_**"Oh … oh, my God …"**_

_**Constance looked up from the pool of blood beneath her to her waist, then to her deathly white complexion: she was bleeding from the graze on her cheek, a bruise rapidly forming below the damaged skin, and she had obviously cut her head at the back; the glistening blood was dripping over her hair and down her neck. Her arms were scratched and dainty wrists badly bruised, and breath raggedy and shallow.**_

_**Gabriella blinked a few times, her eyes beginning to close as quickly as they had opened.**_

_**Constance shook the top of her arms. "No … G-gabby, NO! D-don't y-you l-leave m-me …" Her pleading voice was strangled and the words stuck in her throat. **_

_**Constance turned her head as she heard the exit doors being opened. She drew breath with the intent to scream a call for help, but what came out was a short gasp; she knew time was running out for both of them.**_

_**She heard mumbled words and a high-pitched clatter, the sound travelling painfully through her aching head as a crate of empty bottles was dropped onto the ground, followed by guffawed laughter as the doors were slammed completely shut. She let out a sob, cursing the drunken revellers repeatedly in her mind for failing to notice the visible bodies further down the alleyway, let alone come to investigate further. Not one person had listened to her yelled pleas as she had flown past them to Gabriella's aid. Not one. They may as well have not been there.**_

_**Gabriella suddenly took a sharp gasp and cried out in pain, her breathing deteriorating and body now trembling violently. She forced her eyes open and looked up at Constance.**_

_**"D-don't … do it … I … can make it … j-just … g-give me a m-minute … D-don't … d-do it … B—"**_

_**Gabriella never finished her word. Her eyes closed and Constance let out an actual scream this time, tears blurring her vision as she ran her hands through Gabriella's tangled, blood-encrusted hair, shaking her and calling her name, but Gabriella did not react.**_

_**Constance suddenly became aware of movement in her upper peripheral vision … Movement of ball-shaped objects … warm … and bright … She shuddered involuntarily, feeling faint and dizzy, her skin prickling and tingling, as if she was hot and yet cold at the same time. She sensed them draw nearer to them both from above …**_

_**"Y-you're n-not t-taking h-her … I k-know you're w-waiting … You're not t-taking h-her … I-it's not h-her t-time …"**_

_**Constance sniffed and coughed, breathing fast, light-headed and unable to think clearly, watching helplessly as Gabriella made no response to her pleading actions, knowing that time was against her …**_

_**"I … I d-draw u-upon your s-strength, my s-sisters g-gone … now g-give h-her m-mine …"**_

_**Determinedly, Constance swallowed and breathed in, concentrating: concentrating every ounce of strength within her body; every ounce of strength within her soul, and, with her trembling hand, pulled out the chunk of glass, gasping as the enormity of what she was about to do sank in. She took in the sight of the object in her hand, the jagged edges coated in Gabriella's blood, and gipped, dropping the bottle, which rolled, tinkling along the gritty ground, until it was halted by one of the dustbin's filthy wheels.**_

_**Gabriella did not react, or moan, or indicate she was remotely receptive, much to Constance's intense alarm. She swallowed again, looking downwards. As expected, the gaping wound was now gushing blood at increased volume. Constance placed her right hand palm-down on Gabriella's waist – and waited: she didn't draw breath; she didn't blink; she didn't move; she could feel only the warm liquid oozing through the minute gaps between her taut fingers and down the back of her hand like miniature rivers. Then gradually, beneath her palm, an illuminated ball, like an incredibly small sunrise but just as powerfully bright, began to form. It grew stronger, giving off a glow of dust-like particles into the air surrounding them and turning her veins into lines of orange as it shone through. Constance's wide, dark eyes closed against the intensity of the blinding light, moisture teeming from beneath her eyelids as her already shaking body shook increasingly with effort. Gabriella suddenly cried out before blinking only once. As her eyelids closed, a blast of pure white light erupted from beneath Constance's hand, forcing her back onto the ground and causing her to bang her head harshly. The remaining glow lingered for a second or two before it dispersed, the individual specks vanishing simultaneously as if they had been extinguished like a candle flame, and suddenly it was dark again. The lights above them had gone, leaving the pair alone in the inky shadows of the alleyway.**_

_**Constance gingerly sat up and leaned forwards to see nothing but ripped, blood-stained material and an equally blood-stained hand, but the wound was gone. Gabriella's skin was sticky with the red liquid, but beneath, it was as unblemished as a newborn baby.**_

_**Gabriella groaned, and Constance tried to call her name, but her throat was unable to project more than a breathed whisper, and she did not respond.**_

_**Constance shuffled closer and wrapped her arms around Gabriella's body, muttering several words under her breath and looking in the direction of the men's bodies, barely able to hear them herself through her ringing ears. She concentrated on where she wanted to be, and waited, but nothing happened. She tried again, frustration causing her to tense up more so in temper as they remained in their places.**_

_**Come on, damn it! You can do it, Constance, she thought. Just focus …**_

_**Streams of tears began to re-emerge after a brief moment of dryness under Constance's closed eyelids, pooling in unending flows as she gritted her teeth, holding her breath in an attempt to control the beginnings of intensifying pain coursing through her entire body. Over a minute passed, and, just as Constance thought her chest would explode, she and Gabriella vanished from the spot and reappeared in the centre of the corridor outside Dawn's room in the Witch Training College.**_

_**"Dawn …" Constance would have screamed, and to hell with the consequences, but couldn't. It came out as a strained gasp. She was too exhausted to heave the much-needed replenishing air into her lungs, and her uneven respiration hitched and shuddered with each ineffectual inhalation.**_

_**But Dawn had heard her call and dashed to her door, having been lying in bed, enraptured within the first several pages of Flowers in the Attic – a somewhat ironical choice she would later discover.**_

_**"What's wron—?" Dawn's expression clearly indicated her reaction upon seeing two students so obviously in need of help: Gabriella was limp in Constance's arms, and Constance herself evidently only just managing to stay upright. Dawn paused for a second then regained her voice, rushing forwards. "What the bloody hell happened?" **_

_**Constance couldn't reply. She urged Dawn to take Gabriella's weight as she stumbled into the room and shut the door behind them, hurriedly backing away from the pair.**_

_**Dawn manoeuvred Gabriella onto her bed, her nightgown brushing against her and immediately becoming marred from the wetness of Gabriella's dress. "Oh, mercy … Blood … Where's all this blood from …?" She ripped the tear in the dress at Gabriella's side, exclaiming under her breath at Gabriella's heavily stained material and skin – but no wound. "Constance? How long has seen been out for? Constance? What's th—?" She turned and stopped, her lips starting to tremble in realisation as she saw Constance leaning back against the wall. "Oh, God … T-the d-device …"**_

_**Constance nodded, then suddenly bent forwards, clutching her left arm to her stomach with her right gripping it, falling to her knees. Dawn made to catch her as Constance weakly screeched at her to stay away, her breathing now so intensely fast it was unrecognisable as individual breaths. Dawn pulled back as Constance's body gave off several blue warning sparks, accompanied by a sizzling sound as the now fully charged waves of Magilec ran through her from the inside, each time stronger and stronger, originating in her left arm and entering every single vein and artery, circulating continuously around her body. The hair on Dawn's neck stood on end and the brightness of her standing bedside lamp dimmed as Constance's pallid form physically bolted upright and lifted from the ground as static crackled around her. Dawn let out a small scream and covered her mouth as she witnessed Constance's head slump back, watching in horror as she was internally electrocuted into unconsciousness. Dawn could scarcely move, transfixed into place. Constance's body was completely suspended in mid-air, surrounded by wiry threads of blue light swirling on the surface of her skin like a visible force field, the patterns dancing and enlightening the room as they swarmed around her like a torrential flood of wasps.**_

_**Constance remained there for about five seconds before dropping to the floor with a sudden crack as the Magilec's power was cut off as if a switch had been pulled, the room becoming bright once more. Dawn held back, counting down, chastising herself under her breath for not reacting quickly enough to conjure a mattress or suchlike to cushion her impending fall. At the same time, Gabriella stirred, immediately putting both hands to her forehead and crying out in pain as she became aware of the throbbing in her skull.**_

_**"God … m-my h-head is killing m-me …" Gabriella opened her eyes, trying to force her darting vision to adjust to the excruciatingly painful brightness of the room.**_

_**Dawn paused, unsure who to help first.**_

_**Gabriella pushed herself up slightly, her left leg slipping off the side of the bed with a dull thud. She turned, her hazy vision instantly catching view of Constance. **__**"Bo—" She **__**stopped and swallowed, sinking back onto the bed and closing her eyes.**_

_**Dawn stood to take a closer look at her, lifting her leg up and placing both well back upon the bed, briefly checking her pulse and breathing. She then crouched and gingerly placed a fingertip on Constance's arm. Feeling nothing, she gently rolled her back and swept her hair from her face, relieved to find her respiration regular and pulse steady.**_

_**Placing her hands over her mouth, she breathed in deeply to maintain her composure, running them back through her hair. She cleared her throat and conjured a stretcher beneath Constance's form, doing the same with Gabriella, ready to relocate the pair, praying to whoever was listening she could do it unseen. **_

_**The following morning, Constance opened her eyes, then shut them, then opened them again, instantly recalling the previous evening and its effects on her body **__**–**_ and Gabriella's. She looked to her left to see Dawn sitting on Gabriella's bed, taking her blood pressure. She gradually began to sit up, regretting it almost immediately.

_**"Constance, lie down right now!"**_

_**Constance obeyed, picking up on the tone in Dawn's voice, determining she wouldn't have lasted very long vertical, anyway. Dawn finished off and made her way over to the bed.**_

_**"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" she asked kindly, taking Constance's wrist. Constance was staring at Gabriella, who was lying very still, eyes closed and tucked up within her covers.**_

_**"She's fine, Constance. Mild concussion, nasty head laceration, contusions and some minor abrasions, but she's going to be fine. You, on the other hand, as well as the latter three and a couple of cracked ribs, have also been unconscious for the last thirteen hours." Dawn sighed. She was dressed in a pair of leggings and a T-shirt – the quickest things she had thought to conjure for herself at the time, and their dark colouring did nothing to aid her washed-out appearance. "I know it's a lot to ask, but if you feel well enough, Constance, could you give me an explanation, please, else I may actually have a complete nervous breakdown."**_

_**Dawn was not prone to either exaggeration during any situation or losing her self-control unless extremely upset, and Constance was left in no doubt that Dawn was literally seconds away from falling to pieces from the sheer stress of an unexpected night shift with two unconscious students.**_

_**Constance closed her eyes and filled her in on the previous night's events. **_

_**Dawn quickly turned very pale indeed; a considerable feat given her already white complexion. **_

_**"Did they … did they …?"**_

_**Constance shook her head. "No. But they would have …" Constance made to sit up again.**_

_**"You really should li—"**_

_**Constance let out a yelp, both her damaged fingers and cracked ribs making themselves known.**_

_**"Lie down, sweetheart. You're going to be pretty sore, but I've a few remedies to help. And … well … Constance … I … You had blood on you … More than I … And when I undressed Gab, there was blood … lots of blood … but … no exit wound …"**_

_**Constance looked up at Dawn, making to speak, but nothing came out. But it didn't need to. Dawn knew.**_

_**"You 'helped' her, didn't you?" **_

_**Constance gave a small nod.**_

_**"Oh, Constance … What happened?"**_

_**"She … she fell onto a broken bottle … I didn't w-want to risk it any longer … There … there was already so much blood …"**_

_**Dawn sighed deeply, knowing Constance would do anything for her friend – including putting herself in grave danger.**_

_**"It could have gone so wrong, Constance. You know that. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have given Gab that potion, then you wouldn't have been able to risk it … What if it had happened there and then? You're still so weak an—" **_

_**"But it didn't …"**_

_**"Constance, please, you have to start and think of –"**_

_**"Dawn, you are not to blame, any more than we are. We cannot gauge the intentions of every single p-person we –" Constance stopped and drew a deep breath, Dawn watching her, concerned. "We … m-meet … C-could you get me a bowl, p-plea—"**_

_**Dawn conjured a cardboard container just as Constance vomited. Gabriella turned her head and opened her eyes as she heard Constance heaving.**_

_**Dawn held her hair out of her face as Constance retched, in obvious pain from her already bruised lungs and tender stomach. She eased her back onto her bed from her leaning position over the bowl's rim and discarded the mess, conjuring a fresh bowl of water and a sponge and patting her face and neck.**_

_**"You're stopping where you are for a day or two, lady …" She turned her head. "Gab, lie down. For heaven's sake, you two, you are the world's worst patients!" Dawn stressed, her gentle voice rising in volume.**_

_**"Is she okay?" Gabriella said quietly.**_

_**"She will be," Dawn replied, now offering Constance a sip of water to cleanse her mouth. "You both need to have bed rest today and tomorrow, at least. Especially you, Constance."**_

_**Constance didn't object. She felt too queasy to move, instead closing her eyes.**_

_**"Get some sleep. There's a difference between being unconscious and actively resting, you know. I'll be back in twenty minutes or so; I need to check that no one else has noticed anything odd and pick up some more supplies. Gab, you know what to do if you need me sooner … and if you sense … anything …"**_

_**Gabriella nodded, watching as Dawn stood and left the room.**_

_**Constance opened her eyes, determine to get to her friend somehow, but before she could move Gabriella sat up fully and threw her covers off. She stood from the bed, woozy and wobbly, scratching at her bandaged head, and walked over to Constance, pausing, before throwing her arms around her and bursting into tears.**_

_**Constance hugged her back tightly from her prostrate position, trying not to imagine what could have occurred.**_

_**Eventually, Gabriella stopped crying and leaned back, sitting beside her and cleaning her face with hands, being mindful of her sore cheek.**_

_**"Are you okay?" she asked, still hiccupping sobs and reaching for a tissue from Constance's beside table.**_

_**Constance nodded. "I am more concerned that you are, Gab."**_

_**Gabriella smiled. "I will be. But I wouldn't have been if you hadn't …" she trailed off, stifling more sobs.**_

_**"They … they didn't … actually manag—?" **_

_**Gabriella shook her head. "No, at least nothing before that bastard hit me."**_

_**Constance sighed in enormous relief. **_

_**"How did you know? I tried calling and calling for you but I couldn't get through …" She trailed off, realising what she was saying, for it was her own fault she couldn't contact her. **_

_**"I … felt it … I … went into the bathroom and found your bag and I saw … I … h-heard … and … felt …" **_

_**"You knew …"**_

_**Constance nodded to Gabriella.**_

_**"How did you get me back?"**_

_**Constance raised her eyebrow, realising Gabriella couldn't remember … Could she remember any of it?**_

_**"You couldn't have carried me all the way – I'm not THAT light!"**_

_**"I … um … well, the device works, Gab …"**_

_**"B—" Gabriella looked appalled, breaking off before she had uttered more than a single letter. "Please tell me you didn't? Heaven above, no wonder you're in this state! What if she finds out you've bypassed it?"**_

_**"I don't care – you were my main priority. She can't do anything she hasn't already, Gab."**_

_**Gabriella walked around and climbed into the other side of the bed, snuggling beneath the covers and clinging to Constance. "Now that you can initially override it, you can get away for sure … I mean, you … you won't react like this every time, will you?"**_

_**Constance shrugged. "It will become less intense each time, but I do not think it will completely stop until it is removed … I'm not powerful enough yet … and I can't do that until I know it's safe to …" Constance gave an ironic laugh. "My mother told me my grandmother's favourite story was The Sleeping Beauty. I wonder if it was because of our tendency to swoon rather dramatically every time we were pushed too far …?"**_

_**Gabriella giggled. "It's odd, and yet it's not in a way – sleep is the only thing that heals, really, when you think about it. So it stands to reason that because your body is so precious, it knows that the only thing it can do is shut off and let you recover to protect all it holds, and if you're unresponsive, then you cannot do anything to make things worse. Doesn't give you much protection from anything else, though. You could do with a barrier to shield you from any harm while you're out of it."**_

_**Constance stopped herself from laughing at the irony of Gabriella's words. Gabriella thought on it for a moment, and then said, "Oh, you know what I mean. In general terms. And I still think it's all about the sleeping. Real-life Princess Aurora. And hey, she got her prince in the end."**_

_**Constance sighed. "Perhaps, Gab. Perhaps …"**_

_**"I … er … I'm sorry … for saying what I did …"**_

_**"It doesn't matter now. You must have had your reasons …"**_

_**Gabriella put her head on Constance's shoulder, and Constance rested hers against it in turn.**_

_**"I do have, but I can't tell you them yet … not until I'm sure. Please believe that I'm not doing it to hurt you … Just … trust me. I told you I'd get you through, and I meant until the very end …" She lifted her arm and curled it over Constance's waist. "And the pain I've been having has gone, else I'm too sore elsewhere to notice it!" Gabriella gave a little laugh. "Must have been a pulled muscle, after all, so stop worrying …"**_

_**Constance took a breath and let it out slowly. She wasn't going to push the point, despite being thoroughly unconvinced. She couldn't have pushed a pencil at the present time, let alone attempted to continue their conversation from before. The fact that Gabriella had seemingly not picked up on what Constance had actually done suited her fine for the time being.**_

_**"Feeling sick again?"**_

_**Constance nodded, happy for that to be the answer, though it was not the true reason. **_

_**Gabriella moved her arm a little, lest it was causing the worsening of her symptoms.**_

_**"Very likely the potion we used. I don't think it was meant to be left on for so long, but hopefully it muffled the signal enough to stop her finding out about last night."**_

_**Constance looked down at her left inner forearm and removed the taped wad of gauze she had applied before leaving the previous evening. It was stained with a partially evaporated blue liquid, now dry to the touch but had been heavily coated in the potion given to her by Gabriella from Dawn beforehand. She gazed at the small piece of flashing metal embedded just under her skin. **_

_**Gabriella was running her fingers through Constance's wavy hair. "What … um … what happened to the pair of them?" **_

_**Constance gave a knowing smile, resting her hand on her chest as Gabriella placed hers lightly beside it. **_

_**"Let's just say they will have great fun trying to remove their trousers …"**_

_**Gabriella giggled, watching as Constance's eyelids fluttered shut. She smiled, nestling up closer to her and closing her own. A minute or so later, Constance reopened her eyes and took Gabriella's hand in hers. When she closed them again, several tears from each eye dripped down the sides of her face as she remembered catching sight of the bottle of pills lying beside Gabriella's open bag, and the label covering them.**_

_**Dawn walked back into the room a short while later, sighing heavily at the silent duo. She pottered about, unnecessarily tidying up the already neat clothing she had magically removed and replaced with their night attire late the evening before, finding Gabriella's shrunken handbag and destroyed contents, damaged irreparably from the no-doubt panicked spell used to pocket the bag and keep it from harm's way before Constance found her friend. She had managed to relocate the pair of them unnoticed into their dorm room, staying throughout the night and making certain they were both all right, cleaning them up and treating and bandaging their wounds as best she could alone, not wanting to alert the other staff for fear of Hecketty being notified. She wasn't supposed to be on infirmary duty anyway and knew she wouldn't be missed, and the other matrons would be dealing with the usual rush of 'ill' students after the various celebration parties that would have been attended. The College may have professed the highest standard of students, but there would still be the odd hangover from several, especially if the male students from the nearest other college to them made use of their teleportation skills and turned up like they usually did, looking for the newly trained witches to flirt with. **_

_**Dawn suspected Gabriella had no memory past being knocked out initially, and would not be the one to inform her of what Constance had done. She had aided Constance with the potion to prevent Hecketty tracking her every movement after Gabriella had asked her for help the previous afternoon, knowing it would merely seem as if the machine was malfunctioning. Of course she was aware her actions would be at great personal risk should she be discovered, but Dawn had wanted them to have just one night of freedom together. She knew what was beckoning for Constance, and of what she had risked to save her friend. The price of Dawn's assistance was Constance's provoked condition, the near-loss of Gabriella's life, and a guilt that, she knew, would never fade from her thoughts. **_

_**Hecketty had gone home for the weekend, leaving Constance to be watched by her allied staff, who wouldn't have seen Dawn helping the pair to slip out unnoticed, for they would have been, Dawn hoped, far too busily enraptured in their own end-of-term celebrations without the watchful eye of their superior upon them; even those Hecketty trusted were as two-faced as she was.**_

_**Dawn placed herself on the end of Constance's bed, thinking, her most pressing thoughts inadvertently projected into Constance's mind, and Constance was not fully asleep: she could feel the waves of guilt emanating from Dawn; hear her inner harsh admonishments. She wanted to tell her it was all right, that it really wasn't her fault, but she couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't move or speak even. She was drained, just so drained, and her emotional attachment to Gabriella was the cause. Their closeness was of soulmate quality, and the terror she had felt for Gabriella had been more torturous than any punishment delivered by her aunts. She had thought she was going to lose her, and did not regret for a second what she had done, but, although she didn't know why, she was sure she would live to.**_

_**Constance sensed Dawn ease up off the bed, and sensed her hovering next to the pair, before hearing the door shut softly closed behind her. She would soon come back, but first she had something to do.**_

_**It seemed, to Dawn, the entire event had gone by without arousing Hecketty's suspicion, but as Constance drifted off, she wasn't so sure …**_

* * *

"Hey, hey, shhh … You're all right, shhh …" Mildred soothed, stretching across and moving a lock of Constance's hair away from her cheek.

Constance flickered her eyelids several times, raising her hand in Mildred's and gripping her fingers in her sleep. She had been very restless earlier on, crying out a few times and on several occasions squeezing Mildred's fingers to the point of pain, but she had not become distressed to the extent of before. Her heartbeat had remained within an acceptable limit, though still fast, and the doctor who had twice been in had not been too worried, for it seemed it was under control. He had tried both times to wake her, but she did not respond, and he considered it better to leave her be unless it was necessary, for what was there to stop it happening again within minutes of her falling back into her stupor? He was happy to leave the nurses to perform their observations, and eventually her breathing and blood pressure had calmed and she had become fairly stable once again.

"Hello, Mil," Hudson said quietly, opening the door, followed by two nurses.

Constance blinked again, still sleeping, and the monitor indicating she was evidently still dreaming, but not enough to cause alarm.

"It seems the medication is doing something to curb the effects, if not completely stopping them." He smiled at Mildred. "Might we have a moment, please, Mil?"

Mildred paused then nodded, and started to release Constance's hand. The second she did so, Constance's eyes opened, her free arm instantly reaching across and grasping the other, the weakness of her muscles causing tingling pain to fizzle down her cramped limb. She slowly blinked a couple of times, bleary-eyed, glancing first at Mildred then looking up at Hudson, standing by the end of her bed.

"I've just come check you over again and have a little chat, Constance, if that is all right," he said, smiling and taking her chart.

Constance looked back to Mildred and smiled, signalling she could go and giving a quick squeeze of her fingers.

"I'll just be in the corridor."

"Actually, Mil, Herbert's just got back, if you wanted to head up there for a bit. I won't be too long, I promise."

Mildred looked at Constance, who nodded, attempting to shift herself up a little.

Hudson watched her leave and walked over to the bed, pulling up Mildred's chair beneath him as the nurses busied themselves with the equipment.

"We need to have a little talk, I think, my dear …"

* * *

"I've been ousted out!" Mildred announced before Herbert had opened his door more than an inch.

"Hudson, I take it?" he said, pulling the door open fully and stepping back to let Mildred through.

"Yep."

"Don't worry so much, Mil. He just wanted to clarify a few things with Constance in private."

Mildred slumped down on his bed, wondering, given everything **she** knew, which seemed to be more than all the 'adults' put together, what could possibly be so 'private'?

"Did you get what you needed?" Mildred asked politely, eyeing up a small package on his table in a see-through carrier bag.

"Yes, last copy on the shelf, but don't tell her I've bought it especially – keep it schtum!" Herbert grinned, putting his hand to his mouth and indicating a zipper closing. He picked out an object from his carrier bag and tossed it to her.

"As if!" Mildred laughed, catching and looking at the tubular-shaped packet in her hand. "You know, you'd make a really terrible dentist, Herbie …" she said, smirking and removing a sweet.

"Hey, some of us have yet to get any fillings, I'll have you know!"

"How'd you manage that?" Mildred asked, popping the mint imperial in her mouth.

"Abstinence …"

"From dentists or sweets?"

"Both!"

"Well, that explains the dazzling smile, then …"

"Yes … courtesy of a rather uncomfortable adolescence in train tracks …"

"Aaah, hence the fear of dentists!"

"Who said I was afraid?"

"You keep whitening toothpaste, toothpicks, dental floss, alcohol-free antibacterial mouthwash, plaque disclosing tablets, a tongue scraper, weekly tooth polish and an average of six packets of sugar-free chewing gum in your bathroom at any given time …"

"Ah. Yes … Good point."

Herbert perched on the end of his bed and held out his hand. "Come on, then, one isn't going to hurt."

Mildred passed him a sweet and watched as he sucked for about five seconds before biting down on the hard outer edge.

Herbert paused mid-chew. "Correction. I think I've just chipped my third molar …"

Mildred's snorts of laughter could be heard throughout the entire floor.

* * *

Amelia peered behind her chintzy cream-and-orange patterned curtains, looking up at the increasingly grey sky. Turning, she leaned back in her chair, staring at the still-growing mound of paperwork creating a small version of Mount Vesuvius on her desk; she would simply have to make a serious start on it before very long. She brushed several large biscuit crumbs off her black cardigan absent-mindedly, glancing up at her three flying china ducks on her blue office walls, resisting the urge to close her eyes, but resisting was proving futile. She determined it wouldn't hurt to close them for just a moment …

_**"What about immobilising her like them?" **_

_**Amelia looked up as Imogen flicked her head back towards the static pupils at the opposite end of the Great Hall. She shook her head.**_

_**"S-same … same thing. All – all the f-freezing e-enchantments have a c-consequence … I don't … I – I d-don't know w-what to … to d-do …"**_

_**Imogen shut her eyes, opening them again almost instantly. "Fuck. Oh, Fuck! Damn it, Constance, why? Why? What were you thinking …?"**_

_**Imogen met her headmistress's gaze, tightening her hold on the near-soaked jacket wrapped around her colleague's wound, still feeling Constance's wrist with her other hand. She then moved her hand to Constance's neck, partly unzipping the collar of her dress and folding it back to release the tightness surrounding her throat.**_

_**Amelia clutched Constance's limp form closer, able to feel the warm redness wetting her skin. Able to smell the salty, coppery liquid oozing out of her deputy's body. Able to feel her life force ebbing away as each second passed.**_

_**"Please, C-Constance … P-please … p-please try … P-please open your eyes … P-please open them … D-don't … please don't l-leave us …"**_

_**"Amelia … don't …" Imogen swallowed, resisting her ever-present urge to retch. She moved her fingers to Constance's hand, taking and squeezing it gently, caringly, lest Constance be able to feel her, and know she was not alone.**_

_**"Tell … tell me she's going t-to b-be all r-r-ight, Imogen … I-Imogen … p-please …"**_

_**Imogen looked up at Amelia. "I … I can't …"**_

_**Amelia shakily kissed her deputy's cool forehead, tears dripping from her blurry eyes as she blinked. They fell onto Constance's ashen face, running down her hollow cheeks and dripping along her jawline. Amelia buried her head into Constance's hair, as if to breathe her in. For a moment, she could clearly smell the fruity aroma of Constance's shampoo, and, for just a split second, Amelia's hearing became a muffle, the room around her seemed to fade, and she was transported to a safe place, where Constance could have merely been sleeping peacefully, held safe and secure within her grasp … But then the sensation was gone; it seemed to mingle with the metallic odour of Constance's blood, abruptly jolting Amelia back to reality with sickening recognition as it dawned on her she was almost certainly witnessing her deputy's final breaths.**_

_**Imogen could only watch helplessly as Amelia broke down completely, her face a picture of inconsolable anguish, holding Constance to her like a heartbroken mother clinging to her dying child. **_

_**At that moment, Amelia was certain that, in a few minutes, she would lose Constance forever …**_

* * *

"Amelia?"

The knock and simultaneous call of her name quickly brought Amelia back from her brief period of slumber.

"Ahem. C-come in, er, Imogen." Her voice sounded tired; she knew it did. She began to move a few objects in front of her to make herself look moderately busy, reflecting on her dream, and its past, but still-raw, alternative outcome.

Imogen entered the room, immediately struck at how old and exhausted Amelia looked. It was as if the long days and weeks had finally caught up with her. By now, she and Davina were running out of their initial autopilot adrenaline, and were not exactly bursting with energy, but at least they were not to-ing and fro-ing back and forth every day to the hospital. If she was tired, then Amelia must be dead on her feet.

"How you feeling, dear?"

Imogen stopped. "Are you all right, Amelia?"

Amelia nodded, a little too enthusiastically.

"You've been dreaming, haven't you?"

Amelia raised her eyebrows, speechless for a second, then said, "You, too?"

Imogen flopped down into the nearest chair and nodded.

"That's very … interesting …"

"Is it?" Imogen replied. But far be it from her to question what was interesting to a witch. "It's not dreaming, exactly, more like flashbacks to that night. They don't last long … but then I've not been sleeping much."

Amelia was about to speak when she stopped herself: did she want to confide in Imogen? Of course she trusted her, but … there was a line she didn't want to cross. But was it significant? To experience, and suffer herself, flashbacks of the past? It was now apparent her staff were affected, too, as well as at least one of her pupils. Was it meaningful? Dangerous? There was so much going on in her head, she could, ironically, happily sleep for days, provided it was dreamless, of course. Had her memory of meeting Constance been a dream, too? Or just a moment of reminiscence, for it had hardly been nightmare material. She decided patience was perhaps the key, until she knew more, anyway. She needed to talk to Constance first. Really talk to her. Not to mention Egbert, as well. He had already left, busying himself once more on their behalf before rejoining Phyllis. Amelia shook her head slightly. To coin a phrase from a southern belle she had once seen at the cinema: she wouldn't think about it today; she would think about it tomorrow. Or perhaps, in Amelia's case, the day after …

"Are you sure you are all right, Amelia?"

Amelia looked up, noticing for the first time how positively green Imogen looked.

"You've had Davina's headache remedy, haven't you?" She smiled, unable to stop herself. "And I'm fine, dear. Just a little … worn out."

Imogen sighed and leaned her head back, crossing her elbow over her face in an exaggerated fashion.

"I **did **warn you earlier about her remedies."

"I didn't want to hurt her feelings, and the painkillers I took didn't touch me, but **pond slime**? Is it **really** necessary?"

"She seems to think so. I don't often point out if I have a headache, or any ailment, in fact. Not unless Constance is in direct earshot. Her remedies actually work, and somewhat better than mine. Though I do hold the record for the best poultice of bread dough."

"How's she doing?"

"Better I think. Mildred is like a limpet and scarcely leaves the room. She's still sleeping a great deal, as is to be expected. I believe they may be moving her to another ward shortly as she's hopefully out of the danger zone n—" Amelia broke off, stifling a yawn and excusing herself.

"That's a relief, at least. I still keep having the odd jolt when I think about what might have happened."

Amelia looked across to her. "Me, too. I still cannot comprehend why she took such a risk. Mildred says she said there was no other way to defeat Agatha being as how she was effectively using Phyllis's body as a shield, so to speak."

"But … even so, I mean, do **you **think she knew what was coming?"

Amelia paused once more, deciding she could at least tell Imogen the same as Davina, and as Imogen had asked directly, as Davina had some days previously, she may as well answer. "I think she did, yes. But I also think there is more to this than meets the eye. She's not talking much, though I think that's mainly her condition still, and Mildred doesn't elaborate other than necessary, although it's apparent she knows much more than she's letting on. I guess they will tell me the rest if and when they are ready. Either way, Constance has obviously become very attached to her and she to Constance. I cannot deny I am very pleased about that. Mildred has been so … so unhappy and I cannot blame her one bit. It's as if she's found herself again. And Constance … She's been more tactile with her than I've ever seen her with anyone."

"Do … how do you think she got her scars?"

That was as far as Amelia was going to let Imogen probe. "I do not know. I dread to think," she replied quickly.

"Do you think Mildred …?" Imogen pressed further.

"It would not surprise me. Whatever happened I'm glad she's with her through all of this," Amelia concluded, the firm but not unkind tone in her voice indicating that particular aspect of their conversation was over.

Imogen was prevented from continuing with the subject anyway by a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Amelia said brightly, relieved to have an interruption.

Davina entered. Her face was bright red, and she was wearing a very odd expression.

"What have Fenella and Griselda done **this** time?" Imogen asked in dread, partly not wanting to know.

"You remember how the girls as chickens were laying eggs?"

"Y_**– **_e _**–**_ s …" Imogen drawled.

"The effects have not yet worn off …"

"But the girls have been changed **back**!" Imogen shrieked.

"**Egg**actly!"

Amelia, half-amused and half-stunned into silence, banged her head on the desk, unsettling the pile of papers and sending them scattering to the floor.

"Would you like some of my leftover potion, Amelia?" Davina asked optimistically.

Imogen cracked out laughing.

* * *

_**Hecketty walked around her niece's body, circling her like she usually did, then came back to the front, placing her fingertips just under Constance's chin. Constance was standing very straight and still, nervously aware that the people in the corridor would soon disperse.**_

_**"You did very well, my dear. Very well indeed … You'll be a proficient little earner for us. But tut-tut at using your power to get back to your dormitory. Just testing your skills, were you? You should know better than that by now … We may need to make some … adjustments … Can't have you nipping here, there and everywhere, now can we?"**_

_**Constance noted how silent the corridor had become seconds before Hecketty clamped her hard by the throat and forced her backwards into the wall.**_

_**"And I know you and that girl went out on the night of your final exam, and I know that interfering busybody of a matron helped you …"**_

_**Constance struggled in her grip, additionally blocking out the morning's events in her mind, lest Hecketty try and infiltrate it with a spell to see her thoughts.**_

_**"And now she's left us, I hear. It seems Miss Hammersmith secretly found herself another job. Pity … It would have been a great pleasure to publicly fire her," she snarled viciously. "You were permitted to keep that girl's company, and now she is to leave, too … A school in Canada has apparently employed her services … But I was compassionate, dear, and I allowed you both to remain in your accommodation until today … But by this evening you will have nothing, Constance. Nothing but us … Nowhere to go … Nowhere to hide … We have your life in our hands … So, in case you try anything stupid, just remember what we can do to you." **_

_**She released her grip and Constance dropped to her knees, panting. **_

_**"I have a number of things to attend to, and you are to remain in your dormitory until I come for you, and then we shall depart. My dear sister is most eager to … congratulate you herself …"**_

_**Hecketty walked down the corridor, her feet scarcely making a sound, but their beat was loud enough for Constance to hear them stop suddenly.**_

_**Catching her breath, she turned her head and looked towards her aunt's static figure, recognising the tiny outline of Gabriella standing in front of her. She listened carefully, both afraid and puzzled. Gabriella wasn't exactly being quiet.**_

_**"Well, Mistress Broomhead, may I just say what an absolute privilege it has been coming to your simply splendid establishment. My education really could not have been better after having such wonderful care and consideration from you. I am really quite beside myself over the sheer agony of having to leave; it will be such a wrench upon my heart to be parted from your marvellous teaching ability, but, as you know, I am officially leaving today, so may I at least shake your hand before I must depart?"**_

_**Constance couldn't see Hecketty's face, but as a few people had now appeared, she knew Hecketty would not show herself up. She saw Gabriella stretch out her hand, and knew the returning action would be brusque and brief on her aunt's part, then watched as Hecketty quickly walked away, standing as her friend approached.**_

_**"What was all that ab—?"**_

_**"Shhh, not here, there isn't much time."**_

_**Constance's confusion increased as Gabriella used her other arm and took Constance by the hand, pulling her away, just as Hecketty suddenly thudded to the ground at the top of the corridor and became surrounded by the other bodies inhabiting the area.**_

_**The pair went to their dormitory hurriedly, Gabriella sealing the door with a wave of her hand.**_

_**"Gabby, what's going on?"**_

_**"You still have your book, haven't you?"**_

_**Constance nodded, noticing her few possessions were gone – in fact, hers and Gabriella's room was empty of everything belonging to them.**_

_**"Then get it. I've got our stuff ready and hidden in the cave. She'll be out of it for a good half an hour or so if we're lucky." Gabriella went into the bathroom to wash the hand she had used to shake Hecketty's.**_

_**Constance, startled at everything that had occurred since she awoke that morning, from her graduation ceremony – which was bittersweet, for she was proud of her achievements on the one hand, and petrified of the future on the other – to meeting Miss Amelia Cackle and the resulting situation, to Hecketty's warning and orders, to now, shook her head and did as instructed. Gabriella re-emerged, viewing the Almanac in Constance's arms.**_

_**"It will be quicker if I transport us. Can you take it?"**_

_**Constance nodded.**_

_**Gabriella touched her and took them both to the cave. Constance gasped as they reappeared.**_

_**"Are you okay?"**_

_**"Y-yes … just … took my breath away …" She leaned back against the rocky surface behind her, feeling the device under her skin throbbing. "I … um … tried a short distance myself earlier, but … it's more painful the further afield I try to go." She put the book on the ground, looking around inside the cave. It seemed empty, and remarkably unsoiled. "Gabby, what is going on?"**_

_**"Just wait a minute, Speedy Gonzales …" Gabriella stared at one spot, concentrating, and their belongings almost immediately appeared, emerging from the clear air and forming shadowy shapes before becoming whole. "Okay, now you can talk. Sit down if you need to, I cleaned up the bats' mess."**_

_**Constance opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. She knew that, whatever Gabriella had planned, this was the last stage, and it was goodbye for good. And she wasn't ready. She knew she would never be ready. It had come too soon. She thought there would be more time. Gabriella hadn't met her earlier like she had said she would. Then Amelia came, and she had gone to their room afterwards to see if she was there instead, so exhilarated from her meeting that she had fleetingly forgotten about her inhibitor and vanished absent-mindedly, only to be cruelly reminded she was still trapped. And then when Gabriella wasn't there, she returned, and Hecketty had found her. And then this. Her head was swimming – everything was happening so fast.**_

_**Gabriella smiled. "Come on, chin up. I told you I'd get you through, and I have. You'll be fine from here; you just needed a little bit of help."**_

_**"But … I … I mean … today I … met … and … I shouldn't have said I could do the job … How can I? I told her I'd take it! How I am supposed to –?" Constance stopped her babbling. Gabriella was grinning from ear to ear.**_

_**Constance stared. She hadn't yet told her of her meeting with Amelia.**_

_**"You already know, don't you?"**_

_**Gabriella tapped her head. "Useful to be able to talk to the living AND the dead, you know."**_

_**"You mean you … what did you do?"**_

_**"I asked Mum to help out …"**_

_**Constance's jaw dropped.**_

_**"Oh, don't give me that look. You were worth the risk! And it wasn't too taxing on me, really, as she was still around – she always said she'd hang around the haunts of her favourite movie stars for a while, so I guessed it was worth a try. I had a feeling she could make visits to Richard Gere's dressing room last several years!" She laughed. "I summoned her when you were still … well, recovering that time, and asked her what I could do because I'd had an idea. She said she'd see if she could help, and when she came back she said a lady would be coming with her brother and to make sure you were in the right place at the right time, and she would do the rest."**_

_**"So that's why you told me to wait there …"**_

_**"Got it in one. Now, I've done everything that needs doing, and you know what you have to do next. You don't need me to tell you how to deal with them**__** – y**_ou've been planning that part long enough. And I've worked it all out. They won't be able to trace you, nor me. Once she comes round, she'll be furious and you will need to act fast as she's bound to check the book. Get back before she does and make sure you're ready."

_**Constance nodded. She thought she understood. She had known exactly what she would do with them for a long time, but it was how to do the rest that had been the problem.**_

_**"How have you stopped her finding us?"**_

_**Gabriella smiled. "The Compendium. I saw an enchantment when we found it and noted it down, so to speak – it was like an epiphany when I spotted it! I knew it would work for you just perfectly if I could only set everything up! And if you do it right, they will never be able to locate you in their lifetime. They cannot scry for you. If they try and find you through the Guild or Federation, they won't be able to read your name on any document and see it for what it is – not even a newspaper article or picture will reveal you to them. And they will not be able to utter or write your name for someone to look on their behalf, or even conjure an image of you! You don't have to hide your qualifications – you can tell your new employer about everything you have achieved and she will be able to check if she needs to with the powers-that-be, as all they will know is that you are now employed and think none the wiser of any of it, because those bitches cannot see it with their own eyes to challenge anything. And if someone says your actual name to them, it will come out as gobbledygook. They will be powerless and will not even be able to answer if they are asked where you have gone, regardless of how else it is worded! You will be untraceable to them both. They will remember you, but will not be physically able to speak of you, even to each other. It's the ultimate punishment. And they are hardly likely to kick up a fuss in case they are brought under any investigation themselves over your disappearance. People will assume you've finally got away and they can do nothing about it. Now, no magic can override it or help them except for one thing: you must make sure neither of them physically see you again once you have cast. I've already done mine – I combined it with a nice little serum to give her an awfully nasty headache when she wakes up, not to mention REALLY bad … ah … flatulence …"**_

_**Constance blinked. The handshake. She really had thought of everything. Except one.**_

_**"Come with me, Gab. I'm sure I could convince Amelia to let you – she seemed so kind. And if they cannot find either of us, it will be safe. Please, Gabby, come with me. Your new employers can find another spells teacher. I don't want to lose you … I need you, Gab. Please …"**_

_**Gabriella's smile lessened a little. She was now showing the same kind of smile her own mother had worn as she had left her for the last time; the energy it had taken for her to help Amelia was the last of her Existential Earth Allowance, and she had to leave for good. There had been a choice to make, for when Gabriella summoned her, she was faced with a decision, not fully unknown to her – she was a very strong psychic and had suspected for some time, but the decision had to be hers, and she had to live with it. And, in the end, she knew what she must choose.**_

_**"I can't. You know now why I blocked you. I couldn't risk you knowing I was planning all of this – she would have found a way to get it out of you if she had suspected anything, and I couldn't let that happen. And I knew she was unlikely to try anything again with me, not after the first time she tried. Serves her right, but at least it gave her a nice set of nightmares for a week or two. Ah, the joys of prying when not invited, eh?"**_

_**Constance sniffed, smirking fleetingly at the memory.**_

_**"My mind is now open, and I know you can feel it, but I trust you not to dig. The risk from Hecketty finding out is gone, and the wheels are fully in motion. There's no turning back. No backward glances. You will soon know why I cannot come. And you must promise me not to dwell on it, Constance. I've done what I set out to do, and now you must continue without me."**_

_**"Gabby … I …" Constance's voice was choked so tight she could barely draw breath. What did she mean she 'will soon know'?**_

_**"I won't leave you, Constance. Not really. And my letter will find you when the time is right, but now I have something of my own to do, and my own journey to complete, but I won't ever truly leave you, because I'm there, in your heart …" She moved forwards and placed her hand on Constance's chest, taking her hand in turn and placing it flat against hers. "And you're here in mine. We are sisters in heart, sisters in soul, and nothing can break that. Ever."**_

_**Constance let out a small sob and looked down into her gaze.**_

_**Gabriella blinked away her tears. "Now, before the bats start playing miniature violins, I've a few bits for you." She released Constance's hand and clicked her fingers.**_

_**Constance's tattered suitcase turned into a sleek, shiny leather bag, landing at her feet.**_

_**"I've altered the inside – think Mary Poppins's carpet bag minus the hat stand and plant." Gabriella looked up to Constance's raised eyebrow. "Never mind. You're all set. I've got you some suitable dresses – some have a lovely Chinese style and are much prettier than the ones they have put you in, but they will still cover you where you want them to. Apologies for the patent dominatrix one – bit of a mix up at the shop, but it will suit you, anyway, and it would do as an Emma Peel-esque outfit. I've also made you some magnificent nightgowns, if I do say so myself, just like the ones your mother had. And don't worry, I used the Chameleon Spell to make them look like my, as you put it, 'bloody awful purple PJs' so that they cover … well, you know. You'll be able to see them for what they are and how beautiful you look. There's a dressing gown, too, and some other bits and pieces, and everything has got a protection spell on it to stop them being ruined, unless you cut them to ribbons, in which case you can re-sew them yourself, lady! Oh, and all the garments will also magically expand if they need to without misshaping them if your size changes – that's if you ever get any meat on your bones!" Gabriella paused then briefly looked down at her own elfin frame, giggling at Constance's expression. "I know, I know. I can talk. But I bet you're technically thinner than I am! However, unlike some of Mum's things that I managed to shrink for you, your new things won't shrink any further, because if you get any skinnier you'll snap in half, so make sure they don't get baggy, or else!"**_

_**Constance was again speechless. Gabriella removed her amethyst pendant necklace, bent and popped it in the small pocket at the front. "Make sure you look after that for me," she said, patting the now-zipped flap. A white envelope appeared in Gabriella's hand. She opened the main zip and placed it in the bag.**_

_**Constance shook her head, kneeling down and making to remove it. Gabriella put her hand on hers.**_

_**"She may have prevented you earning money, but she couldn't stop me. It's enough to keep you going for a while until you get your first wage packet. Buy some nice things for your new room and some more clothes – and get something multicoloured! You'd look fabulous in a Fifties-style flowery dress. And you can buy some decent toiletries and stuff, too. Oh, and I've included my **__**–**_ or rather your _**–**_ favourite lipstick, being as it suits you better than me!"

_**Constance made to object again but Gabriella butted in.**_

_**"No arguments. You know I always win, anyway. I only showed you so you didn't attempt to return it. And you're taking it all. It's not hard being in three places at once when you're a witch, and I'm sorted, so don't worry. And remember, I can actually make it stick to you permanently so don't even think about it!" Gabriella smiled, standing up again, Constance doing the same.**_

_**"I … I'm not strong enough to do this, Gab. I thought I was … But … I can't …"**_

_**"Yes, you can. And you have to, and it has to be now. She'll soon be awake, though she will have fun trying to leave the building without a load of people passing out when she walks by them. You should have time to get there before her – I don't think she will try and make that kind of distance with the headache she'll have by anything other than flying. You should get there in plenty of time to prepare."**_

_**"I'm never going to see you again, am I?"**_

_**Gabriella gave a knowing smile. "No. But I will see you."**_

_**Constance was about to ask what she meant, already uneasy with her general wording of things – like she couldn't say what she wanted but was giving her gentle hints to lessen the eventual blow, when Gabriella clicked her fingers once more. A long, thin, dark hazel broomstick appeared in her hand. It was highly polished, and the twigs neatly clipped. And wrapped around it was a huge pink bow.**_

_**"That … it was your mother's …"**_

_**"And now it's yours, Constance. Don't dare refuse – I broke three nails sprucing this baby up for you!" Gabriella grinned, standing the broom to the side, magically balanced upright.**_

_**"Gabby …" Constance didn't know what to say. Her mind was a whirl. She had to leave. Had to fight on her own. No back-up. No help. Yes, she had fought for years, but not like this. Now she was truly about to embark on a journey of the unknown. And what was facing her when she got there?**_

_**"Go. You have to. And so do I. Parting is such sweet sorrow, as they say, which is why you're going to go first, and you mustn't turn back to look. Not another word, just go. And live. Because you're free now."**_

_**Gabriella stood on her tiptoes and stroked the air over Constance's head: Constance's taut bun instantly became long and loose, her glowing brunette locks flowing around her.**_

_**"Oh, for goodness' sake, stick a smile on it! And be happy. For my sake."**_

_**Constance forced herself to smile as Gabriella gave her the last pieces of information she needed, making sure she understood, and then Gabriella pulled her tightly against her. Both could feel each other's hearts breaking. The pair said their final goodbyes in the way they knew best – where no one else but they could hear.**_

_**Constance stifled a cry of anguish as she clutched her in return, and then it hit her. She couldn't let go. She couldn't. She clung on, her racked sobs ringing around the cave, her friend's tiny body so small and fragile against the statuesque witch, refusing to release her. Gabriella felt a single kiss being placed upon her head, and allowed her a short while longer, then raised her hand and pushed Constance back. **_

_**"It's time. You – have – to – go." She picked up Constance's bag and ordered the broom to hover by the cave's entrance, attaching it over the end and placing the Almanac, still sitting on the floor, safely inside, pulling the ribbon further down so Constance wasn't perched directly on it.**_

_**Constance walked towards the broom, tears flowing down her cheeks.**_

_**Gabriella nodded. "Don't look back." She waited as Constance mounted the broom and flew out of the entrance, resting her hand on the rocky wall and watching as she sped into the sky. Turning back to collect her own things, she saw something catching the sunlight gently beaming through the opening, glistening on the ground. She knelt to look. It was a single yellow rose in full bloom, magically crystallised to stay alive forever.**_

_**Gabriella picked it up, feeling Constance's own scent upon it, mingled with the sweetness of the flower. She turned again and looked upwards. Her job was done. The reason for her life complete. Her smile grew wider as the wispy clouds parted by the broom's acceleration gradually began to re-form, covering the sky as if they had never been broken.**_

_**"Goodbye, my darling Bobbie. And … good luck."**_

* * *

"Shhh …" Mildred gently ran the silky balsam cloth over Constance's wet cheeks. "Shhh …"

Constance stirred as she felt a soft tissue stroke her skin. Another dream, another memory, another echo of her past. She didn't want to fall back into her unconscious mind. She fought to open her eyes, desperate to awaken. If she could come out of this dream, maybe she wouldn't have to go back into it. She had lost her again; felt Gabriella with her so closely, only to lose her once more, reigniting the pain she had carried for so long. And with it, it had brought the uncanny, ironic links of her then-future and now-past. Links involving her and Mildred she could never have foreseen at the time, but knew now, for sure, of their impact. The missing pieces of her memory were beginning to gradually dawn in her mind, and her suspicions had now been validated. If there was any doubt before, it had long-since gone. She was certain.

Mildred could feel the mild panic in her grip as Constance's fingers tightened around her own. She continued to make shushing noises, rubbing her hand comfortingly.

Constance finally parted her eyelids, blinking away the blurry wetness. Mildred looked across to the monitor, hearing footsteps approaching. Constance's heart was beating fairly fast, but not enough to trigger the set parameters for the emergency alarm.

A nurse popped her head around the door. "Is she okay?"

"I think so," Mildred replied, aware of Constance turning her head away from the doorway and wiping her eyes with her right hand. "Just a bad dream."

The nurse paused, sensing they were having a moment together. "You know what to do if it worsens, honey. We'll be in shortly." She left, satisfied Constance was stable enough for the time being.

Mildred turned her head back to her cousin. "You don't have to say, I can see it in your eyes."

Constance looked at her, her pupils so big and black they were almost fully obscuring her dark hazel irises.

Mildred gazed back. "I … I dream sometimes, too. About the past … And when I wake up, sometimes … I … I forget what's happened … just for a little while …"

Constance nodded. For a few minutes, neither spoke. They just sat in silence, Mildred stroking Constance's hand, and Constance gradually calming from her dream. Mildred then stood and offered her a drink, which Constance accepted, noticing Mildred's solemn face as she replaced the glass, coupled with the tell-tale sniffles of near-tears, confirmed when Mildred took a tissue to quickly wipe her eyes. Constance lifted her right hand up and hesitated for a few seconds, then indicated for Mildred to pass her a fresh tissue. She took it from her and placed it on her chest and held her hand over the top. It took a little longer than it usually would, but finally, after seemingly invisible, minuscule hands beneath her palm had turned and twisted the material, done so quickly it was almost hypnotic to watch, the tissue turned into an origami swan. She picked it up and handed it back to her, knowing the effort would shortly provoke another episode of slumber, but knew the effects would be worth it. As expected, Mildred's expression lit up immediately.

"I think someone is on the mend …" Mildred smiled, eyes glistening as she took it from her.

Constance closed her eyes, squeezing her hand reassuringly as Mildred replaced hers within Constance's and reseated herself.

"And I expect you to be able to make at least a pig by tomorrow. It shouldn't prove **too** difficult …" she said, her voice soft and tired but full of underlying amusement.

Mildred squeezed back, giggling and looking at the tiny details in each crease line of the swan in her other hand. "Oh, Herbert's gone to fetch you some dinner. Can you manage a bit of toast for me?"

Constance gave a little nod, mouthing, "I'll try."

"Fancy a hairbrush?"

Constance made a small noise which Mildred took to be in the positive.

Mildred set down the swan and clicked her fingers, resulting in Constance's brush appearing in her lap. She smiled, wondering if it came under triviality, but then surely keeping hold of Constance's hand was a good enough reason. She heard a series of tutting and looked up to see a curl of a smile on Constance's lips. She stood and began to run it delicately over her hair as Constance dozed back off.

* * *

"We should get back, it's getting late." Maud stretched up from her chair lazily, yawning with an impressively wide mouth.

Enid mirrored her actions, yawning and extending her arms. "Cosie's next time?"

"Dare we?" Ethel grinned, before unsurprisingly yawning like the other two.

"Why not?" Enid said. "After all, we have to keep our strength up!" She smiled to herself for a moment, her gleaming eyes indicating a sudden 'brilliant idea', unnoticed by the other two. "Hmm … I wonder how long it will be before they start doing proper lessons again?" she quickly began to speak once more, tidying up the various items, her mind already forming a little plan from her 'eureka' moment.

"Miss Drill said probably another couple of weeks or so to get back into our proper routine. I wonder if they will hire someone to take over HB's classes until she's better? They could just stick with Fenny and Gris. But I think Miss Drill's having all on to cope with the older girls' enthusiastic attempts at teaching the first- and second-years!" Maud said, giggling at something Griselda had said about asking for it to count as 'work experience'.

"Do you think we should try and explain any of this to the others?" Ethel asked Enid, feeling somewhat guilty over her conduct with Drusilla.

"I think the best thing is to just stick with what we said earlier, for now. Until we know more."

Ethel nodded in agreement. "I wonder how she is doing?"

"Okay I expect. Miss Cackle would have told us three if anything different, as I think she trusts us enough now. It's not as though they've tried to modify our memories, so they must think we are trustworthy, so we had best not let them down! She said Mil sent her thanks again and asked if we didn't mind taking care of Tabby. Be nice if we could get him to stay on a broom longer than five minutes for her. I was thinking superglue might be the way to go …" Enid suggested, causing laughter from the other two.

"We could try a calming potion on him?" Maud mused. "Well, it worked on RW after he ended up with vertigo!"

The giggling continued as Enid picked up her broom and beckoned the other two. All three wiggled their fingers, resulting in the items forming into a heap which then vanished ahead of them back to the castle.

"Do you think Mrs Tapioca will have noticed the bread and stuff going down?" Ethel asked the two as they rose into the air.

"Nah, she was too busy picking up eggs!" Enid replied, speeding off.

* * *

"Here you go. I'll be back soon, just nipping out."

Herbert handed Mildred a plate with two slices of toast. She placed it on the floating table, raised the bed and picked up a fresh glass of water. She gave Constance a sip from the straw, then replaced it and offered her the plate. Constance picked up a triangular piece of toast and took a small mouthful, her arm aching with effort.

After several minutes, Mildred was getting somewhat frustrated. "Oh, come **on**, at least one more?"

Constance took another small bite of dry toast, which Mildred was now holding after the length of time it had taken for Constance to have more than a single corner of bread.

Constance gave a little shake of her head and leaned back.

Mildred raised an eyebrow.

"You know, you'll end up with feeding tube in you if you don't start eating properly. You can't carry on with only the drips. Herbert already thinks you're thinner than Audrey Hepburn … though better-looking, I think," Mildred added, smiling slyly.

The look on Constance's face clearly conveyed to Mildred that she considered the insinuation absolutely ludicrous!

Mildred giggled.

"Shut up …" Constance whispered.

Herbert stepped back into the room about ten minutes later with a takeaway pizza under his arm and carrier bag in his hand.

"Amelia's just arrived back. I saw her about to land so I imagine she will be in shortly. Extra cheese, right?"

He winked at Constance, turning and organising the rest of the bits he had brought in with him on the table, clattering the plates about.

Constance looked at Mildred, mouthing, quite humourlessly, "Not. A. Word."

* * *

"So, Miss Bat, is there anything we can do to help?"

"No, I don't think so, thank you, Enid. Fenella has managed to fully reverse the effects, but I think it shall be boiled eggs for breakfast for quite some time …" Davina said, holding the staffroom door open for the three.

Enid shuddered slightly, along with Maud and Ethel.

"Maud, would you do the honours, please. The cake is wrapped in foil in my cupboard next to the yak's milk," Davina said, pointing to the urn.

"What's on the agenda for tomorrow, Miss?" Maud said, making her way over to corner as the other two knelt on the floor. Davina sank down into the armchair opposite Imogen, who was sitting well back in her chair, two cucumber slices resting on her closed eyes.

"Not sure as yet, but I've informed Griselda that hide and seek is out of the question. I am pretty certain she was thinking of using the Invisibility Potion stock … Oh, I know – we could have an ensemble chanting session!"

Enid, Maud and Ethel exchanged glances of horror at their chanting teacher. They had been asked by Davina if they would like to come for a chat. Enid had guessed Davina was hoping they would perhaps open up a little more, but figured as long as tea and cake was on offer, they may as well take it. Algernon was still attempting to remove the dents out of the Great Hall flooring caused earlier that day. They could hear the occasional grunted swearword being muttered from inside.

"Any ideas, Imogen?" Davina sighed, flapping her hands down on the arms.

Imogen lifted up one of the slices and opened her eye. "How about a day in bed?" she proposed, a definite tone of hope in her voice, causing giggling from the three pupils.

Davina cleared her throat pointedly. "So, what was this I heard about a picnic using magic this afternoon, girls? Not to mention the replication of a certain summer cordial from last year …?" she said, folding her arms, trying – and failing – to look Constance-style stern.

"Ah, yes … we might have borrowed a few bits …" Enid began. "Oh, but it wasn't trivial, though, Miss. We were **really** dehydrated!"

Davina's forthcoming mini-lecture on the perils of triviality was not in any way aided by her colleague's hysterical laughter.

* * *

"That was very nice," Amelia said gratefully, wiping her lips.

"Pizza Express. Five minutes' walk down the road. As a doctor I cannot advocate junk food, but as someone trying to get some calories down a certain person's neck, I can and will do."

Mildred grinned. "See, clean plate!"

He smiled back, scrunching the paper towelling in his hand. "Fancy a little stroll, Amelia?"

"Oh, yes. That would be lovely."

They stood up to leave to room. Herbert picked up the box and plates, clearing up the mess and wiping the table's surface rather fastidiously.

Mildred giggled.

"Well, it gives the cleaners one less thing to do!" He made sure he had everything, and then opened the door for Amelia. "See you later on then, ladies. And do behave for me, please, Constance. Can't have poor Amelia and I pegging it back up here on full stomachs, you know." Herbert smiled, closing the door behind them.

Constance gave a little laugh at Amelia's expression, waving her pulse-oxed finger as they left. She sensed Mildred pulling a face and turned her head.

Mildred gave her a massive grin, bobbing her eyebrows up and down, her eyes wide and glittery.

"Ooooh yeah, definitely fanc—"

"Not – a – single – word!" Constance snapped, distinctly more firmly than before.

* * *

"So how long do you think before she will be truly out of the woods, so to speak?" Amelia asked Herbert as they walked amongst the trees in the park across the road from the hospital.

"It looks promising in terms of her overall condition. Though she had another couple of dreams this afternoon. Mildred as well, I think. Hudson said they will hopefully move her tomorrow."

"Dreaming even with sedation?"

"Apparently so," Herbert replied, sitting down on a bench as Amelia placed herself beside him. They could see the hospital in full view from where they were. Amelia was staring up at the floor Constance was on.

"Did Mildred say if she had told her about the poison removal yet?"

"No, I think she's waiting on that one, although I think Constance already knows what she did for her."

"I spoke to Imogen today … she said she had been dreaming, too. And I had a dream this afternoon about … that night …"

Herbert turned his head to look at her. He had been toying with the idea of how to broach that very subject. Or even if to broach it at all. Was now the time to ask his burning question? Well, one of them. Amelia had brought it up, so did that mean she wanted to talk?

"Amelia, I … um … I've been meaning to ask you … When … when Imogen and Mildred resuscitated her … was she in full arrest?"

Amelia looked at him.

"Sorry. I meant –"

"I know what you mean, Herbert." Amelia took a deep breath, and Herbert cursed inwardly.

"I'm sorry, Amelia. I shouldn't be reminding –"

Amelia held up her hand. "I've … been waiting for you to bring it up, Herbert. It's been playing on my mind, too …"

Herbert leaned back slightly, giving Amelia his full visual attention.

"She … stopped breathing … and Imogen couldn't feel a pulse, either. I … couldn't do … I didn't know what to do …" She stopped and swallowed. "They … tried several rounds before anything happened, and Imogen was exhausted so Mildred took over. Somehow … they … got her back … but … I … I don't know how they managed it. It certainly took it out of Mildred. For a minute or so afterwards, I thought she was going to collapse … She just looked so drained …"

"The thing is, Amelia, I …" Herbert paused, for now he had started, he didn't know how to continue. How was he meant to say 'well, to be honest, Amelia, medically speaking, we think she was clinically dead – in fact – a few times she's been clinically dead – and we have no idea how she was brought back to life. Oh, and I probably shouldn't be asking you this, but frankly I want to know myself how she survived and can't think of a polite way to ask her'?

Herbert was a man of the highest principles, and would never cross the patient confidentiality barrier – at least, not in ordinary circumstances. But this … this was different. He knew he had to be very careful, from all angles, angles that he didn't even want to think about yet, lest he not be able to function with the same level of professionalism he prided himself upon. Hudson had already commented on the subject, and Herbert knew, for now, he had to maintain that line of duty, hence backing off earlier and letting Hudson do the initial investigations. He felt that Herbert had done enough that day to warrant him a break. Constance had already given verbal permission to discuss her condition, treatments and care with Amelia within the realms of her health, but he still felt uncomfortable. This was not a direct reference to her medical condition as it stood: he wanted to know how she was still alive.

Amelia saved him having to think of rewording his bubbling questions, for she already knew. She had guessed a while ago, and her dream that afternoon had merely convinced her she was right.

"S-she … died, didn't she, Herbert …" It wasn't a question; it was a statement, for which she needed no real confirmation, and it had given her the strangest sense of release to finally say it aloud. She had sensed her soul leave her body that night; felt the change in the figure clasped against her; felt how she had turned more than limp, instead falling slack and hollow, leaving nothing but a shell. She had seen death firsthand before, and she knew she was witnessing it again. Imogen and Mildred were too busy deciding what to do to have noticed Amelia whispering goodbye in her deputy's ear seconds before they aided her in laying Constance on the floor. Amelia was so sure the end had come and gone. And only that morning, Amelia had explained to Constance that she didn't know if she remembered her words, but if she did, then she was sorry. Sorry for not believing in her staff and pupil's abilities, and in her deputy's will to live. Amelia had reproached herself again and again over her own conduct. What she could and should have done differently instead of breaking down and thinking only of the loss **she** was about to face.

Herbert looked at Amelia, his glazed eyes matching hers, both of them unnerved by the memory. Amelia didn't do a thing to stop the beginnings of tears flowing down her cheeks.

"C-Constance … she died in my arms that night …"

"We … we don't know how she survived, Amelia. Her injuries were so severe … The fact they got her to breathe again for so long was just … incredible … And I was lucky … so lucky, Amelia. I … didn't have everything I needed when I came … I was so very lucky …"

Amelia placed her hand on his.

"**We** were lucky, Herbert."

Herbert smiled, and Amelia beckoned him to continue, and Herbert obliged. He wasn't telling her anything he shouldn't. He was surely, as a doctor, merely defining the reason of how his patient had managed to live through such unbelievable trauma. And if he told himself that enough times, it would be true.

"In theatre they had to be as quick as they could because she was … reacting … The surgeon and his team said it was like our interference in trying to save her life was destabilising her more."

"You … said she arrested in the ambulance … Was that the only time …?"

Herbert shook his head.

"She … everything that has occurred … the scale of everything that has happened to her body … Medically speaking, it's more than a miracle, Amelia. And her condition has fluctuated so vastly. Everything from how quickly her collapsed lung healed to her becoming so gravely ill again to Mildred … saving her … Even Romulus as well as Hudson and I believe it was Mildred's actions that saved her life last week. And Romulus couldn't explain it. We had decided to keep her going as long as we could because we suspected the more we interfered, the chances were it could make things worse, and Romulus feared the Comatosation would complicate matters even further if we tried again to intubate her because of how she reacted during surgery. She was given anaesthetic on top of the Comatosation because no one could possibly gauge how long the enchantment would last. Guesswork is one thing, and Constance indicated 'some time', but it is still protocol, and we had to apply it. Even a medically comatose patient must have some extra form of controllable unconsciousness. And they must have tried every medication … and she reacted every time … We were half-expecting her to react to the sedation, as well, but the difference in medication between that and general anaesthesia is highly significant and fortunately she has been all right, as we had to do something to help her. We didn't want to make her even sleepier, as such, but it has certainly helped to relax her a little more and curb some of her panic and anxiety. And overall she's responded well to the other medications and treatments, thank goodness, though she's still in need of oxygen therapy currently, but the level is much, much lower than initially and it has kept her saturation and respiration stable, especially given the additional complications with the dreaming aspect and their consequential effects on her. If she remains stable we hope to remove it completely soon. But … with the rest … it was almost as if her body was trying to stop us adding to the Comatosation's effects, or else altering them. I actually do wonder … I know it sounds odd … but if we had done absolutely nothing, if she would have … I can't explain it, Amelia. She would have been … clinically … um …"

"You can say the word, Herbert."

"I don't mean the first time … I mean after the enchantment was administered … If she would have been clinically dead or only appeared to be? I know, it sounds preposterous … I'm just trying … as a wizard … well, half of one, to work out why such an enchantment exists? When was it written? Would it have been expected for medical intervention to help in such circumstances or was it presumed the magic would do all the work?"

"You mean … why would someone create it unless it could work entirely on its own?"

"Exactly. Her letter indicated, and you told me Mildred confirmed, that the removal of the Dagger without the enchantment being applied would result in death for certain, but that the enchantment would allow the removal of the Dagger provided the victim absorbed the magic correctly … but after that, I presumed it was up to us. If such a enchantment was created more than, say, fifty years ago, death would have been almost certain in any event because the level of technology and intervention just didn't exist for such a resulting condition."

Amelia bit her bottom lip. She, as a witch, and a fairly knowledgeable one, had also been pondering that very subject. And not just about Constance, either. She had noted a couple of things that night – even since that night – which, at the time, made little sense, but were beginning to now …

"And that's not all, Amelia. Throughout this entire time, from administering the enchantment onwards … she remained stable for so long … It's like she was being fed … energy … for want of a better term. Until last Thursday, she was doing remarkably well … and then she deteriorated so quickly, but even throughout that day, it wasn't until the early evening that she took such a drastic turn. And … the only plausible link I can think of is Mildred … only I can't explain why … When she left the room to get the book Constance … changed so rapidly … And now with the dreaming on top …"

"About the dreaming, Herbert …" Amelia began. She had been listening very carefully, and his last couple of sentences had not only reaffirmed her suspicious, but also, in a way, reassured her she wasn't going mad given the sheer absurdity of the thoughts that had been flying around her mind. She partly wanted to ask why he had waited until now to fully inform her of her deputy's condition and past status, plus his personal views on the matter. Yes, he was her doctor, and had his own protocol to uphold, but he was also Amelia's friend. But she concluded Herbert had been trying his best, not only to keep his own head together in such unprecedented circumstances, but also making sure Amelia could maintain her composure, too. She hadn't exactly been the best advocate for calmness after the state he had seen her in.

"You said Imogen had mentioned it … I might be able to shed some light on that. Hudson has been doing some investigations of his own, along with myself, and he saw Constance this afternoon about what we have discovered. It is something even I had not come across as it is so colossally rare, at least in this presentation. There are many enchantments, as you know, that can cause unwanted side effects, nightmares in particular or brief memory regressions, the latter of which I suspected from the start and my colleagues agreed. But to have the dreams such as Constance is having, we knew it must lie deeper. Earlier today we located information on a condition known as Walpurgis Contaminatis Remerendi, and there are only a handful of reported cases as severe as Constance's. She's not just dreaming, Amelia. She's remembering in lifelike detail. In many dreams, people experience various feelings but only in severe night terrors do they often become so distressed, and, with this morning's in particular, she was clearly in agonising pain … and it can apparently also involve events, not just from her point of view, but seeing things through the eyes and thoughts of others, too."

Amelia's eyes widened, and she suddenly felt very sick, realising that Constance, if her once-tortured body was anything to go by, had been reliving her past with terrifying vividness, including not just her thoughts and feelings at the time, but perhaps her aunts' and everyone else's, as well. She had suspected as much, but to have it defined in detail was somewhat more harrowing to comprehend.

Herbert straightened up a little. Hudson had told him that Constance had confirmed he was right. And that she had guessed from the first dream what was happening, but, as there was technically no treatment, had kept silent. Hudson had expressed his annoyance as her doctor towards her for not informing them when they could have attempted sedatives sooner, and her reply, typically, was that she thought they had enough on. It had apparently not occurred to her that they had more to deal with **because** she had not said anything!

"The condition is apparently so-called because of its tendency to rake up mostly bad memories or ones of great significance, and, from what we've read," Herbert carried on, "it can, rather like a virus, attack those who have been in close contact with her for a while until it reaches its natural conclusion and leaves their bodies, though the effects tend to be less severe."

"So … is she dreaming her exact past? As in everything that has happened to her?"

Herbert crossed his hands and leaned forwards, resting his bent elbows on his knees. He knew Amelia was querying her scars, and it was **not** his place to elaborate on that particular element.

"I'm sorry, Herbert. I know there is only so much you can say to me. But … to dream of others' thoughts and feelings … Surely that only happens in cases of … well, psychics and the like."

"Who knows, Amelia. How much of any dream is made up from our consciousness entering our subconscious? Or our imagination and conjecture picked up from once-held conversations? How much of anything to occur in an unconscious mind is real?"

Amelia sighed. She wished she could say everything was made-up; that it hadn't happened. But she knew, deep down, Constance's dreams were a direct result of her once reality.

"And you don't believe that either, Amelia … For a witch to dream such things with no basis … and a powerful witch at that …"

"She must have been to hell and back, Herbert …" Amelia folded her arms across her chest, resting each hand on the tops of each. "I've known her so many years … and yet I don't know her at all …"

"And I think Mildred has been effected, too, Amelia, though I don't suppose it's surprising, considering everything she has been through."

"And not just her, Herbert … Davina said that Ethel began with nightmares only the day after, and I am fairly certain that the other two have perhaps been suffering or else having very un-restful sleep, judging by how pale and tired they look. Imogen said they have been taking care of Ethel, as well, which could account for their general appearance if they are having little rest. They have not said much to any of my staff, which isn't that surprising, being the age they are. Then there is Morgana's state …"

Herbert looked at her, and Amelia proceeded to fill him in on what Davina had told her following their conversation when she had arrived back at the school earlier that day.

"That's … interesting …"

"How so?"

"Well … even as a half-trained wizard, I am fully aware of the link between witches' cats and their owners … And given that my sister's cat reacted the way she did when she passed away, I don't find it overly surprising for Morgana to be so distraught without her mistress – she was there the day I saw Constance, you know. She emerged from beneath the bed about ten seconds after you and Davina left the room and told me in no uncertain terms she wasn't amused at my presence. I don't think I've ever seen a cat so determined to get me off a patient's bed. It was certainly fun trying to take Constance's blood pressure …"

Amelia blinked a couple of times – had she heard right?

"Your sister? Herbert, I … didn't …"

"It's all right, Amelia. It was a long time ago. She was my younger sister, called Evelyn. Uncle Algie doesn't know about her. I've never had the heart to tell him …" Herbert trailed off and cleared his throat. He wasn't regretting his words, but he wasn't comfortable with continuing his tale, either. Not just yet. He resolved to finish the conversation – they had both had enough for one day. "Anyway, Evie's cat was a feline version of the famous pining dog – a Greyfriars Kitty, so to speak, so if that's anything to go by, then given the extent of Morgana's distress, she must have an incredibly strong connection with Constance. But, with any luck, as Constance's condition improves and her dreams gradually fade, so will the rest of the effects."

"I hope so, Herbert. I … just … want her back with us. I can't imagine life without her."

"Come on," he said, standing and offering his arm with a smile. "I think we need to leave this subject for now. Let's go and see if we can wrangle madam an ice-cream cone from the parlour."

They continued to walk and chat in the evening clouded sunshine, Amelia's arm linked in his, now telling him about her rather trying day and asking if he knew of any less ordinary dishes involving copious amounts of cheese and eggs …

* * *

"Do you want some more music on? Herbert's brought some more CDs down. I presume you don't fancy Abba?"

Constance raised her eyebrows.

"The Carpenters?"

Constance rolled her eyes.

Mildred grinned and picked up the item Herbert had purchased earlier.

"La F-i – La F-i-l-l-e …"

"La Fille mal gardée," Constance completed gently for her. She nodded.

Mildred put the CD into the machine, sitting on the locker, and pressed play.

"I often fancied being a dancer. I think I would have been too tall or too clumsy, though, but I can still do a mean hula hoop jig." Mildred laughed, sitting back down.

"I used to dance when I was a child," Constance admitted very quietly.

"Ballet?"

Constance nodded.

"I think it may have been a problem to be over six foot tall with pointe shoes on …"

Constance smiled. "Quite."

"I tried to dance a bit. You know, larking around, but I was always too clumsy, and Mum wasn't much better – two left feet!"

"My … mother taught me … She was a dancer."

Mildred leaned her head on the bed, one arm beneath and her free hand finding its way to Constance's.

"Will you tell me about her?"

Constance paused a second, then said, "She wasn't anything like me …"

Mildred looked up.

"She was kind, gentle … never raised her voice …" Constance's voice sounded slightly constricted, and Mildred saw how her eyes had become glazed. "She … loved music … She even slept every night with her toes pointed like she still had her shoes on …" Constance let out a short laugh, trying to hide the crackle of emotion coming from her chest. Part of her wanted to stop talking, but she couldn't. She needed to release something before she burst. "She met my father at the theatre … Just as the lights came on during the interval, he turned around ready to berate the person who had been kicking the back of his chair during the first half, and she didn't even know she had been doing it; her feet had been moving along with the music …"

"That's so romantic …" Mildred said, tightening her grip on Constance's hand.

Constance drew a slow breath. "She … always said I was ninety-nine per cent like my father … except for one per cent of her gracefulness …" A single tear finally broke free from Constance's eye, trickling down her face. She turned her head away, regretting speaking, for she didn't feel release. She felt only pain.

Mildred hesitated, then stood up, leaned over and placed her hand ever so gently on her opposite cheek, bringing her head back to face her.

"There isn't another child in the world that two parents could be more proud of … And I'm proud … I'm **proud** that you are **you**. And I'm proud that you're part of **me**."

Constance blinked, allowing more droplets to leak from her tired eyes. She took a small breath and leaned her head back, closing her eyes, indicating she didn't wish to continue, or else didn't know how to without completely letting down her guard, which was still, despite everything, difficult to disarm, having spent a vast amount of her life doing everything she could to prevent it being broken through.

Mildred remained standing for a second, watching, pursing her lips in a worrying fashion and wondering, not for the first time, if she had said the wrong thing. As much as the pair now had a form of comfortableness between them, and Mildred felt that Constance was opening up more each day, she was still afraid to push too far, and this was a prime example of mixed messages, when she didn't know whether to keep quiet or continue speaking. There was a part of her still apprehensive to provoke the unnerving glare so often shown by Constance to anyone who dared to question her about an unwelcome subject. In the end, Mildred sat back down and replaced her head on her arm, closing her eyes and trying to stop the aching pain in her chest breaking out into an audible sound.

"A-and … a-and I you, Mildred …"

Mildred looked up: the words had been spoken so softly, softer than a whisper, and she wasn't sure at first if she had imagined them. Constance appeared already asleep, her breathing already so slow and quiet – there could be no mistaking that she was on the cusp of unconsciousness, for Mildred had learned to recognise the signs: that moment where a person goes from being vaguely awake to within the realms of deep slumber. But Mildred knew she had heard her speak. She smiled, drifting off herself as she listened to the music's melodious tones echoing gently around the room.

* * *

_**Davina yawned quietly, stretching her limbs like a cat and rubbing her eyes, cursing her thinly boned backside and Constance's rock-hard chair. She looked up to a small sound.**_

_**"Constance? Oh, my God, Constance, you're awake …"**_

_**Constance blinked in quick succession, rolling her eyes upwards and trying to move. She could barely lift her fingers.**_

_**Davina flew around the bed, edging as close as she dare, lest she be jolted by the glowing barrier of light surrounding her colleague.**_

_**"Constance? Dear, can you hear me?" She was looking down upon her, simultaneously sending a Summoning Charm to Amelia.**_

_**Constance blinked agitatedly for several seconds.**_

_**"I … I …"**_

_**"Shhh, don't try to talk. Give your body a chance to come round …"**_

_**"I … I'm f-fine … I … just … need … s-sleep … You s-should … s-shouldn't … you can … go … bed …"**_

_**"Constance, dear, I'm not leaving you while you're like thi—"**_

_**"What's happened? What's wrong, Davina?" Amelia said quickly as she came through the door.**_

_**"She's wakin—" Davina stopped. Constance's eyes had closed, her body as still as a statue once again. "Was waking up …"**_

_**Davina put her hand in front her gingerly; she could feel the prickle of the barrier beneath her fingers, as if pressing upon a pane of electrified glass.**_

_**Amelia neared, peering over Davina's shoulder. "How much longer do you think she can carry on like this?"**_

_**Davina shrugged. "I have no earthly idea, Amelia. She hasn't eaten or drunk in all this time, she can't go on that much longer …"**_

_**"Unless whatever it is is time-delayed …?"**_

_**"Maybe … She can't be in any harm … If anything, we are the ones in danger from that thing covering her. She's very pale, though. Paler than usual, I mean. Do you think we should call Egbert?" Davina said, tapping her hand on her arm.**_

_**"If she's not awake by tomorrow then I think we should. We cannot guarantee this isn't something she's done to herself, though God knows I've never seen anything like it."**_

_**The pair heard a building noise coming from outside, followed by a juddering bang.**_

_**Amelia put her head in her hands and muttered a name to herself.**_

_**"I'd best get back. I hate Saturdays. Why do they always have so much energy on a Saturday …" Amelia heaved a sigh and left the room, telling Davina to call her the second anything changed.**_

_**Davina walked back to her chair and pulled it a little closer to the bed, continuing to watch Constance vigilantly. She stared at her for a number of minutes in silence before she spoke quietly under her breath, leaning back.**_

_**"I know you are not all you seem, Constance. No one who is surrounded by spirits is all they seem …"**_

_**Davina exhaled slowly and folded her arms across her lap, looking up at the shimmering orbs floating directly above Constance's barricaded form. Most witches did not see them; Amelia had not noticed them earlier or even just now. **_

_**But Davina had; she had felt the presence of others the second she entered the room that morning with Amelia. And, if she didn't know better, she'd say they were guarding the young woman, sleeping like the dead, beneath them.**_

* * *

"Davina … **Davina **… DAVINA! WAKE UP!"

"Wh— … Wh-what? Oh, Imogen, it's you …" She looked down at her spilt cup of now-cold cocoa in her lap.

"Are you all right?" Imogen had just come back from seeing the girls out, checking on everyone else, including a snoring Morgana, plus bandaging up Algernon's thumb and ticking him off for overuse of a four-letter word around earwigging first-years.

"Y-yes …" Davina slouched back into her chair, breathing deeply and absent-mindedly drying her dress, managing instead to turn the spilled liquid in a semi-solid bar of chocolate. "It was just a … just a dream, Imogen … Just a dream …"

* * *

Amelia yawned and sat down on Herbert's spare bed, brushing her hair. She was too tired to fly back tonight, and she could always go into the room if Constance needed her, but as both were fast asleep when they had arrived back, she suspected they may remain so for the rest of the night. So, for now, she was happy to just crawl into bed herself.

* * *

Neither Constance nor Mildred heard Herbert pop his head around the door a little while later. Neither of them noticed him turning off his silent portable stereo or covering Mildred up with one of her blankets. Neither of them saw him standing at the end of the bed for several minutes, watching the pair, thinking quietly, and remembering … And neither of them could have known that his soundless tears were for three things plaguing his mind so badly he almost wanted to remove his brain in order to cleanse it thoroughly as a means of washing away the burdensomeness of his thoughts: thoughts of what he had once been told, who he had then lost, and the growing fear of losing the precious treasure he had now, finally, after so long, gained. His mind could be controlled. Perhaps, for now, so could his heart, but fate's pathway was another matter entirely, and Herbert didn't know if he could continue without one half of his soul if he was to lose the other, now that he had felt the two halves connect.

He knew fate would always find a way, regardless of the barriers put in place to hinder its path, but, while the journey of a person's life _**–**_ and soul _**–**_ is written, the destination could always be changed, and he intended to make sure it was, before it was too late.


	28. Chapter 28

***NCD clears her throat meekly, sending in her flying monkeys beforehand to check for hidden, irate readers (possibly armed with pencil sharpener blades as makeshift weapons), then sidesteps cautiously onto the page, hands wringing behind her back and expression suitably sheepish …***

Ah. Um … yes … *peers around, ready to duck at short notice*

Well, I said I would be back at some point … just unfortunately not as soon as I had hoped … But I never promised, because I don't make promises I can't necessarily keep – I have been on the receiving end too many times to ever think of doing it to others.

What I **did **say, however, is that I would try my very best to get back as soon as I could feasibly manage, and that meant without cutting corners or presenting you with something so atrocious it would pain me to keep it on file, let alone post it on here. Learning to draw the line is one thing, acting on it quite another, and enough will never be enough for me. But I know that if I don't do this now, I will never do it.

And so, just over two years later, despite the hurdles in my path, I've managed it (just about), and I hope what is coming was worth waiting for. If not, then please feel free to hand-feed me cyanide pills. No, I'm not joking; after the time I've had, I'm **really** not!

Now, I have made the effort to explain why there has been such a delay and several of the reasons behind it. If you would be so kind as to read it, I would appreciate it, for it is very important to me that you understand I have not been absent just for the sake of it. I know for a fact more people will read this than my profile page, which is why I have made the decision to post this message here; writing something of **this** length as an A/N is not something I will ever repeat; the following says it all and will continue to say it, whatever happens in the future, for any new readers. (Though given the length of the update, frankly this note is **tiny** in comparison.)

Firstly, though, one of my friends was advised to do a summary after leaving a gap between posting, and I thought it was an excellent idea, considering the gap between my last chapter and now has been rather significant. Therefore, a summary of all the chapters up until now will be with you shortly (unless you have already skipped down the page).

**Secondly, having heard of, much to my great concern, the recent removals of many people's stories over their 'too adult' content, I should like to point out that my story, with regard to the guidelines, is no more graphic or violent than the later Harry Potter books and like-styled 'young adult' novels, and I have put warnings that it is NOT suitable for those under sixteen in every chapter. I would be inconsolable to have come this far and put in SO much effort to have my story removed for breaching guidelines that I have followed to the letter throughout my time here. Please, to anyone with concerns about my work, or the moderators, bear this in mind if my work should ever be put under review: the story has very much a full, detailed and specific plot, and the contents therein are entirely necessary; such details are not there for the sake of it, nor should it be assumed this story and its coming sequel are in any way too graphic or violent for those aged sixteen and over. I would not have considered publishing it if I was in any way contravening the rules set upon this site. Thank you.**

*breathes*

Thirdly, before I sign off in my capacity as author (and take over in my capacity as demonic-sounding voiceover guy), I do wish to once again thank my loyal readers, reviewers, and anyone who has and is still taking an interest in my Worst Witch saga. It been such a journey for me since it all began in September 2008, and even now I have to pinch myself that it's real.

I'm well aware that this isn't really the time or place to elaborate upon the exact ins and outs of the reasons for the frequent time delays; those who know me personally know why each chapter takes a long time to come to fruition, and the reviews they and others leave encouraging me to continue make it all worth while. Generally speaking, there are a number of reasons I do not elaborate too much to the public, not least of which is privacy, as well as the fact I **need** my work to be read on the merit of what it is; I don't expect or want sympathy for the (ridiculously long, complicated and downright uncannily ironic) story behind it; sympathy is the last thing anyone in my position needs, believe me. As someone who is generally very private, and would never post online anything she didn't want the world and its cat to read, I have, on this occasion, decided that this is the best way forward. I owe it to you all to be more forthcoming; you've waited long enough, and I think I should oblige your patience with a little window into my soul, so here goes …

*insert less than adequate deep breath here …*

For me, leaving comments and reviews for others periodically is one thing (see my profile for more details), but when it comes to actively organising my own work, it takes so much more time, energy and concentration, plus a clearer and less foggy head and – above all – confidence in my abilities. While it's clear by now that encouragement is something I give freely to others in order to help them realise their full potential, when wagered against those with a far higher capacity and bearing extraordinary talent greater than I, my own self-belief is another matter entirely.

The main reason for the hiatus, amongst many within the combined complexity of my personal life, is this:

I'm ill. Seriously, severely, chronically and unrelentingly ill. I have been for over half my life now; nearly eighteen years, in fact. And my vicious, cruel and debilitating disease, unfortunately, rules my every waking and sleeping moment with absolute effectiveness over every cell in my entire body, inside and out, leaving not one part of me unaffected, typing fingers included. It has become progressively worse over time, despite my efforts to thwart its power over my ever-weakening shell. And last October, following three prior relapses in my condition since summer 2010, owing to another catastrophic reaction to medication, I relapsed for the fourteenth time, and the consequences very nearly prevented the continuation of this saga completely. No, I'm not kidding. It was **that** bad. Though, believe me, I'd have come back and haunted my best friend until they agreed to continue it …

In addition to that, regardless of the state I am in on an everyday basis, if I can help another living (or deceased) creature, be it my family or friends and so forth, I will, and their pressing needs will **always **come before my own. I can't bear to stand (or lie, in my case) by and see anyone suffer or struggle (story contents notwithstanding) and always try my best to help others first. It's perhaps not the best way to go about life, especially with the situation I'm in – but it's **my** way, and the only one I can live with. But such efforts obviously use up what little strength I have, and any remaining tasks must wait until I can adequately deal with them.

The above is not an excuse for my tardiness, just part explanation of the reasons behind my prolonged absence. Ultimately, varying circumstances aside, my friends are also my family, which means my love and care for them extends in the same way, and therefore my own priorities in health, time and work are automatically pushed aside until my beloved circle are attended to, settled and happy. That is how I 'roll', as they say, and I cannot feel guilty for putting others first.

(Oh, and on top of all **that**, just DON'T mention the words 'house renovating' to me for at least another two years …)

And while I **do** intend to finish both sagas in their entirety (otherwise the tale **is** coming down for good and I quit), in truth, life itself – let alone writing – is incredibly hard, and I'm scared. In fact, I'm **terrified**!

I'm terrified of being flamed for being away so long, because it seems like I don't care about my readers, when the truth is I care so much this is the only reason I am posting this now – because if I don't, I've let you down as well as myself.

I'm terrified I've lost my touch (assuming I had one to begin with!).

And I'm (yes, still) absolutely petrified of **ever **being accused of copying another, especially when I've been writing this for such a long time and specifically gone to the trouble of making sure that no other's work was plagiarised on my part to the very best of my knowledge and abilities. So many new and amazing stories have emerged since I began posting, and so many ideas and instances have come so unbelievably close to elements of mine that the fear of being accused of taking another's ideas makes me feel very, very nervous about continuing to post, especially as I've tried so relentlessly to avoid anything of the sort. For a time, I even considered stopping reading others' works (note: only those I have reviewed have I actually read; no review, I've not read it!) until I had finished posting completely to avoid me feeling so uneasy, despite my friends constantly telling me I've nothing to worry over, but it's unfair to do that when the reason is down to my own insecurities. And while I understand the concept of fans writing fiction is by using copyrighted material to begin with, and that inspiration from other writers is inevitable (and most readers will not care half as much as I do as long as there are more stories to read), for me the idea was to do what no other had done before – or at least try to. I can honestly say I feel totally inadequate against the majority of writers, but I can live with that as I know I've always done my best, and not just my best to write (especially grammatically speaking!), but to write material of my own mind. I have no idea if I'm succeeding with my plans, but I'd be absolutely devastated and completely distraught to think anyone was of the opinion I'd maliciously and heinously used another's work or ideas therein in order to take their rightful credit. Please, please believe me when I say I've never before nor ever intend to write anything but my own work. I've put my very **soul **into this and done everything I can to make it mine and mine alone from beginning to end (original characters and culture references/homage excepted), because this piece of writing really is all I have to cover the excruciating void in my heart.

And so, because of that, I couldn't just give up. Not yet. I've spent such a sustained period fighting one crushing battle after another that I couldn't bear to pull it down forever without trying my damned hardest to make it work; the response I've had over time has often been the only thing I have to look forward to. Despite the energetic and bubbly persona that is nearly always shown, in reality I've only a margin of a few hours a day, if that, to do anything remotely purposeful with, and that's on a very good day only, of which there are few and far between. The rest of the time, I'm useful to no one and effectively a (mostly) breathing corpse.

I've over two hundred thousand words waiting to be polished up for posting, not including the content of this chapter, and the count is growing as said amount is in detailed synopsis form only, and not the finished product. Suffice it to say I've a dauntingly long way to go. More than three-quarters of the above amount and the plot's eventual finale have been written for over three years, way before I read over ninety-nine percent of what I have by now, waiting for me to continue – and I absolutely refuse to let another three pass me by without it coming to full realisation; I've worked too long and hard to slot every piece of the puzzle together to let it go now. And even though a part of me would love to sink back into the shadows and never emerge again – to give up entirely, for it would be so much easier than what I am faced with – the part of me that's still flickering with what's left of my fighting spirit is urging me to continue.

But without my readers and so-loved reviewers, I don't think I could do it, because **you **are the reason I continue. Indeed, because of my marked deterioration in recent months, I've speeded up the development of my story's content even further than before, just in case time and my body are not on my side, which, in all seriousness, is very much a possibility. So, as I've mentioned in recent times to my closest companions: be ready, this chapter holds a **lot** of the plot's secrets …

I've got so many little projects I'd love to attempt, as well as a pressing need to finish the ones I've currently got. There are so many things I want to try and do, if only to remind myself that I am still here, on this plane of existence, alive – and occasionally kicking. It just takes time; everything for me takes time. And luck.

But, truly, above everything – above my many trials and tribulations and whatever else is happening – the point of it all is this: for hundreds and thousands, if not millions, FF is merely a hobby amongst many in a full and varied life, but, for me, despite never, ever imagining myself as a 'writer' – a process that is still quite alien to me – it is a means to escape from a desolate, dark, caged world – **my **world, where I'm a wing-clipped songbird who can only hope to hear the music because I cannot fly to it – into a another. A free one. Where I'm given what every person needs in their life: **hope**. The parallels within my story to my own life are often more true than most know or could ever imagine. They say 'write what you know', and to find a place where I can pour out my soul through characters whom I've loved since a small child is a privilege that, once upon a time, I never knew of, or thought of, or envisaged in any way …

**But I will be eternally grateful that I found this place ****–**** found my hope ****–**** and most especially to the uniquely special lady who led me directly to it, until the day I die, and beyond. **

Finally, I must mention my infinite thanks to my writing soulmate, **lemondropseverus**, for her so-dedicated and beautifully worded (and long! *rubs hands in glee* :D) reviews, not to mention her kindness in loving my work so much (quote: 'Number one die-hard fan', unquote) that she's incorporated my Chameleon Spell into her own exquisite and unique writing – flattery in its highest form, I think you will agree, especially as she is one of the finest writers I've ever come across in my life. And I need to, above all, thank her for her gift of friendship, which came just when I needed it, and has helped to carry me through a dark tunnel in recent months.

And also my endless thanks to **NicNeptune** for the same reasons as the above; her reviews were as magnificent as her work and she is truly one of the most intelligent and naturally gifted people I've had the pleasure to meet and who will undoubtedly excel in life.

And I think everyone who has put me on alert, or favourited my work, or taken the time to review so beautifully for me also deserves a mention:

So, here's special thanks to: **ALIASMOTH-gothic wonder**, **AssortedScribbler**, **behaveyourself**, **Beukie**, **caradens**, **constance braveheart**, **Crimson Paradox**, **Crusifikz70**, **decat**, **Dreamer Of The Future**, **fellfromgrace, Ginnia**, **GloriaNewt**, **Greenangelwings**, **greenovalfruit, Gretalie Moores**, **happy-rea**, **indey101**, **Intus a Vates**, **Karin Hardbroom**, **Kitty Katriana**, **kittykat9055**, **LeDriv**, **Lynsey**, **madeye harry**, **Marie Knight**, **melissa Ivory**, **MissLizzySpinks**, **MoyashiBoJangles**, **nikkijones95**, **NorthShadow**, **PenultimateAltercation**, **piksie-nana**, **rach1803**, **RestlessSeas**, **sapphmonster**, **SummerHoylandFan**, **Taya K.V. Janeway **and **young wiccan**. (Please note: all names were as above at the time of writing; if you've changed them since, I'm really sorry! And if I've accidentally missed anyone, just let me know. :))

Thanks, too, to my dear **Starfleet Witch **and (**HRH**) **Princess Sammi** (**BA**) whose fics, **The Hooded Stranger **and **Ice Queen** respectively, were written for me since my last posting, the latter of which is virtually an advertisement for this story; both were complete surprises, and both were received into my heart with gratitude I could never portray enough to them both. And, more recently, another present by the irreplaceable **McGonagall's Bola**, who wrote a wonderfully beautiful story for me, too.

After this length of time, the combined efforts of those special few above – my dearly loved Sisterhood – as well as the reassurances from my sweet **Aleksandra Hardbroom**, dearest **Blondie47**, **Chrissiemusa**, **DissectingPomegranates**, **Duchene-fan**, **HB's Favourite**, **HB rules** (Happy Birthday once more!), **Lily Anne Olson**, **LisaT**, **MissBrownClue13**, **Rick-Is-The-Man**, **Sammy1257**, **The Blue Moon Fairy **and my personal darling of comic relief, **typicalRAinbow**, all came as a great comfort to me when I most needed support, before now and this last year in particular. I can never thank you all enough.

And, last but never least, to my other writing soulmate, **Kimmeth**, without whom I'm not sure where I'd be now, I wish to tell you how much I love you, too, and thank you for being all that you are. You are a born writer, in body and soul. Never let go of your dream. Dreams are what make life worth fighting for.

This chapter is first and foremost for you** all**, and gladly shared with each and every one of my additional silent but oh-so-loved readers.

(And also my darling little cat, who has recently come into my life, just when I needed her, and has been my adored, patiently-listening bedside companion ever since, and has helped me get this far. And, yes, she can read.)

Until next time, for I will return just as soon as I can *awaits hysterical laughter*, a very, **very** belated but still very Happy New Year to you all! And, as always, all my love and thanks to everyone reading this, reviewing this and taking their own time to appreciate my heart-felt ramblings, now and forever. I may not have my body, but I still have my soul, and that soul glows because of all of you.

NCD

xXx

PS: This chapter contains references to two of my favourite pieces of music of all time, the first of which I loved **long** before Twiglet (as TR excellently described it to me ;)) got its hands on it in that atrocious film (though it's a perfect remedy for insomniacs), and the second of which is more special to me than anyone could ever realise. :)

PPS: I also love (virtual) Scrabble (see WAY below!) and once got one hundred and seventy-six points for 'Charleys'. It was the first and last time I got such a high score for one word, lol.

PPPS: *hands tissues out beforehand as they may be needed* I needed them and **I **knew what was coming!

* * *

**PLOT SUMMARY **

***NCD briefly breaks off and drags (quite firmly by the ear – his hands are a little too 'icky' for her liking) her friend and employee, TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom (whom you may or may not remember from NCD's series of Reviewathons which ran alongside Kimmeth's masterpiece Worst Witch trilogy, The Devil in the Details), to come and narrate the following, as NCD is knackered from checking the chapter thirty-four-point-seven times …***

***TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom strides onto the screen, holding a PPD (*NCD winks at (HRH) Princess Sammi (BA)*) microphone in one hand and, inexplicably, an umbrella with a jewelled, sparkling parrot-head handle in the other …***

***NCD immediately queries said umbrella, to which he replies that it is made from reinforced diamond-studded titanium and is potential shelter from fuming readers' missiles … Oh, and he nicked it from Miss Poppins after her spree in Swarovski …***

***NCD, upon hearing this, rolls her eyes and pushes TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom to the front of the page to recite the story-so-far from the autocue …***

***TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom clears his throat and looks up, before squinting and pointing out his glasses are currently at Boots having new lenses and he needs to be closer …***

***NCD momentarily facepalms, mutters something about 'incompetent twit' and pulls out a (fake – she lacto-vegan, after all) leather-bound copy of her story and shoves it into his hands, attaches the PPD mic onto his chest (with waxing tape) and waltzes off to get herself a nice drink of rice milk (I had to switch from dairy so technically I'm now full vegan: it's another LONG story involving several dramatic collapses (though Colonel Brandon could have easily lifted me and carried me around) and handcuffing myself to the bed to avoid another admittance to hospital) with a curly (pink) straw, leaving TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom to begin the recap …***

***TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom clears his throat again and sits down on a nearby (pink) stool …***

**"Ladies, gentlemen, witches, wizards, cats, owls, rats, mice, ladybirds and random bookish tree frogs –"**

***NCD quickly signals for the Microsoft Windows dude to stabilise the shaking screen and points out her employee hasn't quite learned the art of whispering yet …* **

***TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom begins again, quieter, and in a falsetto voice …***

**"Previously on Desperate Hous—"**

***NCD launches a bag of red apples (what? They worked for the Evil Queen!) at his head and makes hissing noises before drying her weeping eyes at said programme's demise …* **

**(I was 'Bree', by the way, mainly owing to my red hair and obsessive perfectionist streak. My sister was and still is 'Lynette-with-gun' – you can draw your own conclusions from that …)**

***TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom rubs his block (his HEAD, you gutter-bound heathens!) and decides to read the actual story, spending several minutes absorbed within the text before actually speaking, during which NCD docks his formally inflated pay (oh, think what you like) …***

**"Once upon a time, in a floating Glinda, Witch of the North-style bubble, in a land far, far away, known as Planet Zog, a pixie-like (six-and-a-half stone), redheaded, music-driven, twinkle-toed, soprano-voiced and arguably certifiable young woman named NCD magically happened across a website. This website, the likes of which she'd never dared to imagine, was to change her life forever when, a little while later—"**

***NCD tosses a spare mic at his head from the side of the screen and makes 'will-you-damn-well-hurry-the-bleeping-bleep-up' motions with her hands …***

***TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom quickly skims the makeshift book, throws it back over his left shoulder and addresses the awaiting readers …***

**"Okay, in a (very small and concise) nutshell (yes, this IS the short version), in chapter one –"**

***NCD butts in again with a SPOILER ALERT megaphone (yes, she's got her earplugs in) and points out that for anyone who hasn't actually read the former twenty-seven chapters, they should stop HERE if they don't want to know what's happened thus far …* **

**"– the inhabitants of Cackle's Academy learned one fine May morning in Mildred Hubble's third year (in which Davina remained on staff as NCD has plans for Lavinia later …) there was to be an imminent duelling competition between themselves and Pentangle's Academy, as seemingly arranged by Chief Wizard Hellibore. The incomparable Constance Hardbroom, naturally, did not take the news too well (PMT notwithstanding), but she and the staff resolved to deal with the situation as best they could (and, behind the scenes, Davina was virtually banned from the stationery cupboard for the duration, though, as you can imagine, this did not last long)."**

***NCD nods, hiding another bunch of apples behind her back, just in case …* **

**"Over chapters two, three and four, it became quickly apparent our favourite potions teacher was not all together well, hence Cackle's found themselves introduced to who would turn out to be Algernon Rowan-Webb's nephew, Doctor Herbert Rowan-Webb, who attended a somewhat ill and ever-so-slightly-peeved-to-high-heaven HB. During his visit, it was revealed by Amelia that Constance – usually as strong as an ox – had, to her memory, been ill just once before, many, many years ago …"**

**(What? Go back and read it if you want the full explanation of her magical chrysalis!) **

**"Despite the fact she was very unwell, Constance was determined that things should go to plan, and made certain the chosen girls – Mildred and Ethel – were as ready as they could be … and for any eventuality that may face them …"**

***NCD whistles innocently***

**"In chapter five, Phyllis Pentangle (aka The Purple Lady) and her several accompanying girls arrived (aka The Purple Brigade – not to be mistaken for the Purple-rinse Brigade who are about seventy years older), and not long into their stay an incident took place, whereby Mildred ingested a deadly potion, which nearly took her life. She was fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on whether you like Millie or not) saved by Constance, but, for Constance, the effects of this attempted poisoning would place the final nail in the coffin of her suspicions that all was not as it seemed … But, by then, it was too late … Far too late … Bawahahahahaha …"**

***NCD interrupts the flow and thwacks TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom with a keyboard, mouse and a lone speaker and yells at him to stop his extemporisation of the text!***

***NCD then has to explain what 'extemporisation' means and spends several precious minutes showing him the children's dictionary definition …***

**"Moving on. By chapters six, seven and eight, it transpired that Phyllis was, in fact, Agatha in disgui—"**

***NCD butts in once more and points out that she had absolutely NO IDEA that 'Agatha-in-disguise' had occurred in one of JM's Worst Witch books at the time of writing and publishing, having (still) only read the first four, and is now quite certain she truly does have psychic powers …***

**"… and that Constance was the target all along … But, while Mildred and her friends managed to capture Agatha with the use of Constance's mystical Almanac –"**

***cue dramatic music and flashing lights***

**"– the damage had been done: Constance, having been stabbed by a lethal weapon –"**

***dum, dum DUMMMMMMMMM!***

**"– known as the Soul Dagger, was dying – and fast …"**

***TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom indicates the audience should partake in a sharp intake of breath***

**"In chapters nine and ten, Constance's life was not only hanging in the balance –"**

***NCD is aware that is a massively overused phrase for every soap opera on the planet, but it also sets the scene perfectly and therefore she is using it***

**"– but actually hit the balance and fell below it several times! Buuuuuuuuuuuuut! She was saved due to the teamwork of those at Cackle's, Herbert and – the most important one of all – Mildred Hubble …"**

**(Which those of you who have been reading really should have grasped by now …)**

**"In chapters eleven to seventeen, further revelations came forth, including a babbled, hysterical and heavily abridged account of events from Mildred to a shell-shocked Amelia (with equally shell-shocked hair), who learned that Constance apparently knew exactly what she was doing, as well as the discovery that her deputy was related to some rather familiar – and disturbing – extended family. Also, the wizards arrived at Cackle's (rather quickly, for once), having gone via the hospital to deal with the removed weapon, and the school between them decided how to proceed (which mostly involves Egbert and Algernon helping out at Cackle's and Pentangle's and half-killing themselves in the process). And while all this was happening in the background, ongoing was the gradual stabilisation of Constance's resulting condition – that of a magically induced coma …"**

***NCD grins***

**"However, by chapter eighteen, Constance was deteriorating, and it seemed Agatha's influence upon her was not over yet …"**

***cue second lot of dramatic music* **

**"Mildred, using the Almanac and a power she didn't know she had in her (as she is, as told to her later by her grandmother in a letter featuring her family tree, Constance's first cousin once removed and a Witch of Purity, as is Constance), conjured a much-needed enchantment and brought Constance back from the brink once more, after it became clear the scratch on Constance's arm through which she had been poisoned was causing her to be so gravely ill … All seemed well … until chapter nineteen came forth …"**

***NCD grins again, adding a wicked cackle, pointing out all is not remotely as it seems …***

**"From then until chapter twenty-seven, Constance's past began to haunt her in the most terrifying manner, and the 'haunting' isn't quite over yet, as formally indicated by the lovely gabbing Gabby, not to mention Davina's now-evident sixth sense … We learned a little about Constance's grandmother, who adored the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale (VERY IMPORTANT, SO REMEMBER THIS, PEOPLE! Not least because it is also NCD's favourite fairy tale … ), as well as some details about her murdered parents – her mother was a ballerina, her parents met at the theatre, and Constance herself used to dance as a child and clearly loves the music Herbert has *cue swoon* so lovingly brought in for her …" **

***NCD butts in, winks and blows a kiss at her psychic twin, Dissecting Pomegranates, taking full credit for DP's present obsession with the Black Swan soundtrack …***

**"Also, Herbert revealed a side to him that spoke volumes … Mildred and the others (although Ethel had been at it a while) additionally regressed back to past events, revealing how the current situation came to pass. And while things were settling a little at Cackle's (bar Fenella and Griselda's enthusiastic 'assistance' and Morgana's issues – not caused by a catnip addiction, I might add), there were still so many questions unanswered … not least of which is the most important: what happens next?!"**

***NCD, sipping her ricey-tasting milk, comes back onto the screen, thwacks TheVoiceOfImpendingDoom about the head with the apples, just – because! And then sends him back to his dressing room, thanking him for keeping it brief … ish …***

Well, folks, there you have it. I know, I know: it's hardly detailed compared to the real thing … But, to be honest, apart from the fact I'd love it to just be enough to whet people's appetites should they be happening upon this for the first time and plunging headfirst into my little recap/spoiler to see if it's worth reading in the first place, I also am aware I've already taken over five thousand words in just this note, so I think I've already pushed about as far as I can, and that is the general gist of it (though it does miss out HUGE chunks of additional info regarding the 'bigger picture'; for that, I suggest you reread it if you've forgotten my hints … *cue evil laughter*).

So, without further ado, I present, finally, after two years of waiting, both for you and for me, here is … at long last … chapter twenty-eight of **Appearances Can Be Deceptive **…

*wipes forehead and flops dramatically to side of screen, calling out weakly for the Colonel …*

PS: Do you remember what I said about not repeating three chapters in one? Yes … It didn't quite work out that well … I decided to place the whole thing in one chapter, partly for ease for me, and partly as it all happens on one day and I feel that, unlike the others, this particular part of the tale needs that ongoing continuity, therefore I've left it intact. As always, I have separated the sections so that you can come back to it easily instead of jumping from one scene to another without a suitable line break. Suffice it to say, proofing it has nearly killed off what's left of me …

PPS: And could anyone, for the **love of magic** **and all that is witchy** (that phrase began with me on this site, by the way ;D), PLEASE enlighten me as to how and why my twenty-sixth chapter has **three times more **people reading and rereading it than any other (bar the first, obviously)? It's inexplicable to me, it really is – it isn't THAT good!

PPPS: *blows kisses*

PPPPS: Extra bonus points go to those who can spot all of the (obvious and not-so-obvious) culture references in here!

* * *

**UPDATED: 9TH AUGUST 2012 (Yes … well, I got here as fast as I could!)**

**WARNING: GRAPHIC CHAPTER. NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 16s. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. ADDITIONALLY, THE LENGTH OF THIS ONE MAY REQUIRE TWO OR THREE SNACKS AND STRONG COFFEE TO GET YOU THROUGH IT IN ONE GO …**

**AS ALWAYS, ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE MAGICALLY WONDERFUL WORLD OF MS JILL MURPHY.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 28**

* * *

"Amelia! – **calm down**! You're going to give yourself a heart attack!" Herbert said loudly, and with a typical doctor-like concern, guiding her away from his apartment door by her shoulders.

"But she – Herbert – I MUST talk to Constance! It's urgent! She DIED, Herbert! You said yourself she technically died **before** we performed the enchantment! That means Agatha must have her magic! That's **why** so little came out of her! Why didn't it occur to me before?! How could I be so stupid to miss something so colossal! Even when Mildred told me about what the Dagger did it didn't register and I've had all this time to think about it and then when we talked and –"

"AMELIA, IF YOU DO NOT CALM DOWN I WILL BLOODY WELL SEDATE YOU!" Herbert stressed, gripping Amelia's arm firmly and virtually forcing her to sit down.

Amelia looked at him, eyebrows half raised in surprise.

"I'm sorry, but trust me: the last thing I need is you keeling over with a heart attack."

Amelia stopped moving. "And how did you know I might?"

Herbert didn't reply; he just smiled and finally released his hold, sitting himself beside Amelia on his bed.

Amelia closed her eyes a moment. "Davina, right?"

Herbert nodded. "She was worried about you – the stress of everything. She told me in confidence, Amelia, so don't be jumping down her throat. Now … are we calm?"

Amelia nodded slowly. _About as calm as I can be without a double-decker cheesecake smothered in hot chocolate sauce and fruity popping sprinkles __…_

"All right. Listen to me **very **carefully. What I'm about to say must – for now – go no further than us; I promised Egbert and intend to keep that promise. Firstly, Agatha does **not **have Constance's magic. Let me assure you of that fact."

Amelia blinked. "But … how … did … what?" She was half-minded to pinch her arm to check she wasn't dreaming. The fact her hair looked like an advert for all-weather gel and was stuck-up on end and her pyjamas wet with perspiration was the least of her worries. But the fact Herbert was wearing purple silk pyjamas about as close to Constance's normal night attire as you could get was not helping her to regain her focus.

"That night, something happened, Amelia, and because of what happened, I asked Egbert about the weapon when he and Uncle Algie came to destroy it. I met them both while you and Mildred were in with Constance. The weapon, Amelia … was Ecliptic."

Amelia's jaw shouldn't have dropped. It wasn't as though she hadn't heard the expression or knew the meaning, but it dropped nonetheless, because it immediately confirmed another of her thoughts upon the events of that night; thoughts she hadn't divulged to Herbert.

"W-what?"

Herbert nodded.

"There were no traces of purity in it. My own experience of a Soul Dagger is from the hearsay of a colleague, and although Egbert had never come across such a virulent weapon, he knew any lethal magical object when used upon someone who is, for all intents and purposes, morally good, would become tainted with their pure magic – and the Dagger was untouched. Both of them were certain – even Uncle Algie's new unbroken staff indicated its status and he hardly had to do anything. Whatever Constance did, Amelia – and however she did it – that Dagger did not absorb any of her magic to begin with, let alone pass it on."

Amelia pressed her lips together and took a slow breath through her nose.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Herbert briefly flashed a smile. "What were you about to do just now?"

Amelia sighed and folded her arms.

"Run into her room and wake her up to ask her …"

"Egbert and Algernon thought you had quite enough on your plate – and, to be honest, Amelia, so did I – and we thought it was better to keep it under our hats until you realised yourself or Constance brought up the subject, as she has not exactly been forthcoming about all of this. She likely needs time to adjust."

Amelia nodded, then paused, frowning.

"But … what harm could it have done to let me know sooner? You could have just sat me down like this and told me."

She was still not really grasping the 'for your own good' clause she was being fed. Although she trusted Herbert – and Egbert and Algernon – implicitly, she could sense there was more behind his words. And given she was old enough to be his mother, there was a part of her ever so slightly annoyed. Annoyed enough to continue her questions.

"And what was it that happened in the first place to provoke your interests in the weapon beyond its creator?"

"Um …" Herbert cleared his throat and let out a small huff of a laugh. "This is going to sound bloody ridiculous …" He bent forwards and rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Constance … spoke to me …"

"She … she what?!"

"She spoke to me … That night, in the helicopter, when she … um … When her heart stopped beating … Well … during the process of defibrillating her, she spoke to me. I thought at first I had imagined it. There was so much noise, you see, and … my adrenaline was pumping and …" He swallowed. "I was fuzzy from exhaustion myself by then … but the words stuck in my mind, as if they were being repeated in a loop, and they continued until I paused for a second and listened."

Amelia turned a little more towards Herbert.

"And what did she say?" Amelia asked plainly, not phased in the least by his confession.

"Only three words: 'Is it Ecliptic?'"

"Is it Ecliptic …" Amelia repeated. To a novice it would mean nothing. But to someone who knew the foundations of such a term … "And you deduced it was the weapon she meant from that?"

Herbert nodded. "I daresay I am as familiar with Ecliptic weapons as you are but, even so, I wasn't sure I would necessarily be believed, and by Egbert, especially. Regardless, when they arrived, I told them what had happened. I knew, even if Egbert wasn't sure, Uncle Algie probably wouldn't question it. As it was, Egbert immediately took the weapon from me and checked it there and then. All three of us then realised it was completely untainted. Constance must have known precisely what she was doing to prevent any absorption from the Dagger, which presupposes she knew exactly what was going to happen."

Amelia released a slow breath. _Why am I not surprised, Constance? Why am I not surprised __…_

Herbert cleared his throat once more and stretched out his legs.

"It was truly touch and go that night. I had no real idea of what would happen or whether she would pull through. Her surgeons were of the initial opinion she may have incurred brain damage, and I was warned not to build up your hopes. They didn't think so, as her circulation and respiration was controlled virtually non-stop, and with her eyes reacting perfectly well, too, we felt it was unlikely, but they were not one hundred per cent sure. But … deep down … I knew she'd spoken to me. Her voice was soft but coherent. Pressing, even. When it happened … I felt her … mind inside mind … And … it occurred to me fleetingly at the time she had actually …"

"Died again?"

"Yes …" Herbert sat up a little more, resting his chin on his hands, elbows on his knees like the day before while sitting on the bench. His face was pensive. Amelia waited patiently until he spoke again.

"So … when you told me on Sunday night what Mildred had said, things fit into place."

Amelia put her head in her hands, and, for a moment, Herbert thought she was crying, but she wasn't. She was laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking," she breathed, leaning back. "Davina tells you I suffer angina and to keep an eye on me. You, Egbert and Algernon decide that ignorance is bliss on my account and tell me nothing of your findings. And Constance – well – just what else is she – and Mildred – keeping from me? It **is** laughable, Herbert, all things considered. I know I'm not the most perfect or powerful witch, but I do have some creditable points, even if the school seems to think I'm the silent party in charge half the time, as I know they feel Constance sets all the rules. But the truth is that she has always done as **I** have instructed. She has protested on occasion at my methods, don't get me wrong, but never has she gone behind my back or against my authority. We've always worked so well as a team … Herbert, am I really so incapable of coping with the truth?"

Herbert paused for a second, then caringly put his arm around her shoulders, noticing the tears in her eyes.

"No, you're not. You're obviously dearly loved, Amelia. By your colleagues – your friends – and also by your pupils; they may see Constance as having the most power but it is your respect they desire, I'm sure of it. Why else would they have banded together so well if not out of love and reverence for you and your establishment, as well as their obvious concern for Constance. I cannot speak for Egbert and Uncle Algie, but I myself have been worried about you. You've coped so admirably with the impact of this unprecedented situation, but we all have our breaking points. I didn't want yours to be in the form of a heart attack. And I would think Constance is also of that opinion. I take it she is aware of your condition, being the astute person she is?"

Amelia gave a watery smile and nodded. "She frequently tells me to swap a chocolate éclair for a carrot stick. I daren't let Imogen know. She will have me swimming in the lake at the crack of dawn every morning." She sighed, knowing it was unfair to press him for any more information at this moment in time. Being loved in whichever manifestation it took was never as easy as it sounded, especially when secrets came under the jurisdiction of 'for your own good'. Feeling the heaviness of her increasing age, still sitting next to her friend and Constance's savour, Amelia could contain her turbulent emotions no longer.

Herbert could only comfort her as she broke down, knowing, invariably, that her real tears had barely begun.

* * *

Amelia, standing herself beside the monitor, looked upon her sleeping deputy, seemingly so blissfully unaware of her superior's state only a short while ago. She hadn't cried for long, but long enough to give her a stuffy head, which wasn't helping to clarify all of the information rebounding around her brain. She sighed. She was doing a lot of that lately; not in a deliberate fashion, but simply as a reaction to the ongoing situation. She raised her hand, unable to resist curling one of Constance's long locks around her finger. She heard Herbert walk in behind her, stopping at the end of the bed.

"Are you all right, Amelia?" he whispered. He always hated how that sounded, when the truthful answer was almost always in the negative.

Amelia nodded. She was still rather choked up, though couldn't stifle a small smile as Mildred mumbled 'Tabs, for the last time, the broom won't bloody eat you!' in her sleep, smiling again as she saw Mildred's fingers tighten on Constance's.

"What's going to happen, Herbert? Just … look at her …" Amelia stroked a finger gently down Constance's hollow cheek, resting her hand upon hers.

Constance stirred for a brief second and turned her head towards her young cousin's direction, breathing in and out audibly just the once before reverting to her silent repose.

Herbert opened his mouth to speak, glancing once at the headmistress and back to the bed's occupant, taking note but saying nothing of the single tear running down the older woman's face.

"I don't know, Amelia," he answered quietly. "Honestly, I just don't know." _But I don't think it can be good_.

Amelia didn't hear his thoughts, but she felt them. She leaned over and kissed the forehead of her deputy, slowly, as if to make it last a lifetime, then left with the accompanying Herbert, leaving the pair once more, and seriously considering restarting her long-forgotten smoking habit.

"Don't even think about starting up again, Amelia," said the voice beside her.

Amelia cracked out laughing and wiped her face.

"How did you guess?"

"Whenever you hold a pen or pencil you tend to hold it in the classic pose." Herbert smiled. "Oh, and Davina might have also mentioned that I was to make sure you did not have access to cigarettes …"

"I shall do her one of these days …"

"She means well, Amelia."

Amelia sighed. "I know she does. She's been through a lot herself, Herbert."

Herbert nodded. "I guessed as much the first time I met her. As a doctor, it was somewhat obvious to me there was something not quite right, although I didn't comment until she told me herself in case I was wrong." He offered Amelia his arm as they walked. "How badly did the stroke affect her?"

Amelia sniffed. "Very badly indeed. She was still so young at the time. But she came back to us. It took a long time, and the effects were more upon her mind than her body, but most of the old Davina returned, and the new parts we've grown to accept as being as special as she is, however eccentric she can be at times." She smiled. "Her love of music pulled her through, I think. The singing therapy, especially. She used to have such a beautiful voice in her younger days."

She sighed again, a part of her anger dissolving as she thought of her dear friend. While she felt she ought to be kept in the knowledge of everything regarding her deputy and the attack upon her school, she was also aware that she, too, was concealing a great deal of information from those around her. She deserved to be irritated by their secrecy, but so did they by hers.

"Davina is very important to me, and I think I would have done the same for her."

Herbert smiled at her, patting her hand wrapped around his arm. "Come on, let's try and get some shuteye."

They continued to walk and talk, Herbert half listening, and fighting against his own impassioned need to tell his friend the truth of the matters in hand. But he had promised Egbert he would strive to keep Amelia away from wild speculation until he could establish precisely what had occurred that night – and what had been the intentions of the entire event. For all three men were quite certain, following on from Herbert's reluctant but necessarily divulged information to them both, that more than one outcome – and victim – had been intended.

* * *

"Got everything?"

Mildred had Constance's black patent bag in her hands. She looked up at Herbert and grinned. "Check!"

"Right then." Herbert stood behind Constance's bed, a porter at the other end. They wheeled it out of the open doors, held by Amelia and Mildred.

"You take care now, honey," Brenda said, putting her hand on Constance's and squeezing gently. She then gave Mildred a big hug.

"Thank you so very much for everything," Constance whispered.

"You're very welcome, honey." Brenda smiled, Charlotte approaching behind her.

"Just keep getting better, please," Charlotte chimed in. "And, **you**, missy, continue taking such good care of her!" She smiled at Mildred and looked back to Constance. "She's definitely a star pupil of yours!"

Constance looked at Mildred and smiled softly. Mildred quickly squeezed Charlotte's hand and continued walking beside the trolley as they all made their way down to the lift.

"Don't suppose you fancy a trolley dash?"

Constance raised her eyebrows at Mildred and tutted. She then closed her eyes. It was a rather strange feeling to be moving while lying down. Despite being slightly propped up, her vision was mostly of the ceiling and it was making her somewhat disorientated.

They reached the lift. Herbert pulled the trolley in backwards as they all climbed in. It was a bit more claustrophobic with a large trolley and four standing people. Mildred looked up.

"On the plus side, if we get stuck I can levitate into the escape hatch! Or else use the oxygen canister to bash through the doors!"

Herbert laughed as Amelia stood back rather quickly against the internal holding bar and sucked her stomach in as the lift began to sharply drop two floors.

"I will never get used to this feeling."

"And yet you whiz around on broomsticks?!" Herbert exclaimed.

They left the mechanically opened doors, turned immediately to the right and continued to push the bed down a wide white corridor, then stopped abruptly and turned again to the right, meeting a bold sign above a set of double doors, like the one for the ICU, which read POST-SURGICAL UNIT.

They proceeded through the doors, which were made from heavy-set glass, past two more rooms, and then turned immediately to the right once more.

Constance was feeling distinctly woozier than before by now. There was no sense of bearing from her horizontal position; aside from vaguely being aware of the trolley's headed direction, they could have taken her in a big circle for all she knew. She lifted her head a little as they entered the room, craning her neck painfully in the process. It was almost identical in its layout and contents to the previous one, but mirrored in setting, minus the odd piece of equipment and furniture generally unneeded on a normal ward. The bathroom looked to be the same from what Constance could see from her manoeuvring bed, and the room also had a small television on a bracket in the corner. Having spent many a time listening to the girls chattering excitedly about having caught up on their taped programmes come each new term, Constance closed her eyes and fleetingly wondered how many soap operas Mildred was going to inflict upon her.

Mildred glanced at Amelia. "I bet you anything she ends up watching it before the week's out!"

Constance opened her eyes and looked up at Mildred, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Mildred giggled. "I think you would enjoy _Sabrina the Teenage Witch_. Just imagine if our cats could talk! Actually … Now that **is **an idea for the Bullfrog prize! I bet it will beat Fen and Gris's Matchbox Magic!"

Amelia and Herbert put their hands to their faces with a resounding thwack, matching Constance's perfectly timed sigh of exasperation.

"Right!" Herbert pushed Constance's bed fairly far up against the back of the right-hand side wall.

Mildred took Constance's bag into the bathroom then pulled the blinds fully shut against the brightening sunshine.

"It's 7.46 a.m. precisely. Okay, you two, breakfast in five minutes!" Herbert ordered, waving the porter off and thanking him, as did the three others in the room.

Just then the double doors reopened behind the porter. "Hello, my darlings!"

Two nurses in pale pink scrubs entered the room, dragging with them a fully reclining chair, complete with two fluffy white pillows and a matching duvet-thickness quilt.

"We've been assigned especially to you," said the bubbly voice as she led the way and heaved the chair beside Constance's bed, moving the locker along a little so the chair was as close as possible to Constance. "There we go! Now, I'm Jackie," she announced, taking a mock bow, "and this is Betty," she pointed across, and Betty smiled, half rolling her eyes at her colleague.

The occupants of the room took in their appearances.

Jackie was fairly tall, but not as tall as Constance, nor quite as thin. She had cropped, coarse-looking hair, which was a silvery grey, and yet her face was youthful and her ruddy cheeks enhanced her mothering features.

Betty, on the other hand, was at least twenty-five years older than her colleague, and had white hair, curly and short, and round white-rimmed glasses which emphasised her blue eyes. She was very tiny, no more than five feet in height, and petite with it.

Constance smiled slightly and nodded.

"Not much of a talker? That's okay. We never stop. Well, I don't. We'll both be looking after you during the day while you're here. Feel free at any time to tell me to shut up." Jackie laughed as she met Betty's eyes. "And now we've been properly introduced, we'll be back in a couple of minutes to get you sorted and re-hooked up to everything, sweetie," Jackie chirped, patting Constance's hand. "And Betty can check over your lines and that wrist of yours. When it comes to needlework, I'm afraid I have a reputation for causing patients to feel like pincushions, although I'm now so adept at talking them into unconsciousness they don't generally notice any pain."

Mildred giggled. Amelia looked as if she didn't know whether Jackie was serious or not.

"She's kidding," Betty quickly added, noticing Amelia's face. They nodded to Herbert, who was unsurprisingly fiddling with Constance's chart and writing a couple of notes in squiggly handwriting, and left, closing the doors behind them.

Amelia readjusted her handbag and looked at Herbert, who, having clipped the chart on the end of Constance's bed, was now standing with his hands on his hips and scrutinising the room, making sure it was to his requested satisfaction. He walked over to the sink and checked it was spotless and observed that all the necessary equipment was provided, including a couple of cushions for the two blue visitors' chairs in the far corner.

"Have you been pulling a few strings?"

"Oh, I might have done a bit of puppeteering …" He beamed at Amelia.

Amelia laughed. Mildred quickly flicked her eyes at Constance, wearing a grin of triumphant amusement. Constance rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly at her.

As Amelia and Herbert said their goodbyes and walked towards the doors, Mildred paused. "Shall I wait with you until they come back?"

Constance gave a reassuring smile and indicated the doors with her head. "Go on," she mouthed.

Mildred smiled back and quickly gripped her hand before exiting through the single open door Herbert was holding for her.

Constance waved them off and settled back into her pillows as the door swung shut, looking up at the television set. _It__'__s been a while since we last met, hasn__'__t it? _She sighed, closing her eyes. _Though if Mildred so much as mentions an inclination to tune into this damn new series of __'__Big Brother__'__ I keep seeing plastered all over the covers of her reading material, I may ask Herbert to give me another two doses __…_

* * *

"Morning!" Enid called out gaily.

"Ohhmphh …" A half-open book slid off the bed with a thud. "What time is it?" Maud mumbled sleepily, turning over and pulling her head out from beneath her pillow.

"Just gone eight."

"Oh. I'm still in my own bed … on my own …" Maud said dazedly, rubbing her eyes and looking around at her blurry room. "Did Ethel manage all right, then?" she added, sitting up. Her glasses were on the top of her head and snagged in her hair. Enid moved forwards and unlatched them for her, sitting down on the bed.

"Yep, think so. I peeked my head around a bit since. She seemed to be sleeping all right."

"I guess the cocoa worked, then," Maud said with a wry smile.

"Yep. She needed it. I still can't believe how nice she is deep down. I always thought she was such a snob."

"Thing is, Enid, I don't think it's entirely her fault. I mean – look at her family. What she has to live up to. I even remember hearing Miss Cackle at the start of the first year saying to HB that the Hallow family had enrolled another 'winner'. Miss Cackle said they were somewhat status-minded and that she actually felt sorry for the girls who ended up coming under family pressure, especially as – when you think about it – Sybil doesn't particularly want to be a witch but her family have obviously insisted. I think Ethel's arrogance and snobbishness have become inbuilt as a reaction to the environment she grew up in."

"Hmm … At my old school, a lot of bullying went off …" Enid trailed off for a second, then suddenly cleared her throat. "Anyway, when I confronted one of them, they said they could either be bullied or be the bully – and they chose to be the bully. It makes you wonder if Ethel thought she was likely to be even more put upon if she showed any weakness because of her status and expectations so decided to make sure no one could bully her for being the little rich girl and one of the Hallows. But it isn't as though she was likely to be bullied, really. She's pretty. She's always got the highest grades and always performs perfectly in what she does, even without seeming to try. Most of the girls would want to be just like her if she wasn't such a bitch. Or was a bitch, rather."

Maud sighed. "True, but it's usually the ones with the highest intelligence who have the lowest self-confidence and they either go on the defensive and burn themselves out trying to prove they can be the best, or else they go into their shell and don't try at all for fear of failure. Look at Mil. She's so clever when she wants to be and believes in herself. Maybe Ethel began in such a way that by the time she realised she didn't have to try and use her status rather than just her talent it was too late for her to change. And yet now she has changed. I felt so sorry for her the other night. The memories and nightmares have really torn her apart and I know she's refused at least four times to phone Mr Hallow. I heard the Chief Wizard telling her again she needed to talk to him and she blanked him and said a straight 'no' before walking away. She must be **really** mad or upset with him. It must be because of Etheliana. She'll have to talk to him at some point, but once things are back to normal and HB is back with us and stuff, I don't think she will ever go back to what she was like before. Do you?"

Enid had her head turned and was staring out towards the open shutters.

"Enid?"

Maud's friend slowly turned around, and Maud was taken aback to see her eyes glazed.

"After all that's happened, and all she has told us, I guarantee you such events will change her forever, and she'll never be the same again," Enid said quietly, and with palpable knowing visible behind her eyes.

Maud frowned. "Are you okay?"

Enid nodded, clearly not all right but refusing to comment further. She brushed it off by jumping off the bed and calling out she was going to wake Ethel up, possibly with the help of a bucket of water.

Maud remained and leaned back against her pillow, thinking quietly as Midnight launched herself onto the bed. For Enid to say something quite so deep so early in the morning was pretty unheard of, and Maud was left positive there was more behind it than just concern for Ethel. She stroked her cat for a few moments then got up, shrieking briefly at the somewhat dead-looking 'present' her cat had obviously brought her during the night that had been left at side of her bed and consequently squelched beneath her bare foot.

About fifteen minutes later, Enid and Ethel knocked and entered Maud's room, the pair both carrying their wash-bags. Maud picked up hers and her towel and closed the door behind them.

"Morning. I slept **really** well, you two. All that flying must have tired me out!" Ethel said, a smile upon her face as they walked towards the bathrooms together.

Maud smiled, and Enid quickly winked at her.

"I wonder if Ruby's c – calm – ed down yet?" Enid said, yawing.

"She will do," Maud replied. "I think Jadu was going to talk to her regarding our being a little 'of – f it'." Maud yawned, stretching. "Go – sh, it's c – catch – ing," she said, repeating the action once more then clearing her throat. "I saw her briefly last night when I nipped to the loo and just said we were sorry if they thought we were being awful by ignoring them, but that we'd been rather badly effected by the spells used on us. They don't know any different, after all."

"Did she buy it?" Enid asked, scratching her head.

"Not sure. But they are going to have to. What happened stays with us, right?"

"Right," Ethel said.

"I wonder how long before HB will be able to teach again?" Enid pondered aloud.

"Certainly not for a few months, I'd say, considering she almost died. I can't see Miss Cackle hiring anyone else, though. And **nobody** could top HB, anyway. I suppose they could just keep Fen and Gris on!" Maud said, causing all three to laugh.

"You know, I'm really hungry this morning." Ethel said, and both girls beside her smiled. They intended for her to have some more cocoa tonight.

"Just some toast and jam for me, I think!" Enid uttered quickly, remembering the previous day's little incident.

"Nice to have a change from porridge, though," Maud added.

"As long as it's not boiled eggs!" Enid snapped.

* * *

"Hello again, you three. Nice brekkie?" Jackie smiled as she passed the oncoming trio, carrying a high pile of sheets in her arms along the corridor. "I had the full English this morning at five. Best be quiet when you go in; she fell asleep within minutes of us finishing. And she wouldn't let us dry her hair, either, as we gave it a quick wash. She said it had been done yesterday but it looked a bit tangled so we gave it a good conditioning and just mopped off most of the water with a towel and put another dry one beneath her head. She assured us you would sort it, Mildred."

Mildred nodded, and she, Amelia and Herbert silently entered Constance's room. Constance was indeed fast asleep.

Mildred, carrying two plastic bags, took herself immediately to her chair and as noiselessly as she could proceeded to move the room's floating table nearer for her various bits and pieces, simultaneously filling the locker with freshly bought stock for her to consume, courtesy of Herbert.

"Hey, look," Mildred whispered. "She's in her own nightgown."

Amelia looked over and, sure enough, she was wearing one of the gowns Amelia had brought in for her. She looked distinctly more comfortable in it than the hospital clothing. Amelia smiled, internally shuddering slightly at the more-visible scars upon Constance's skin. She glanced at Herbert, who was standing with his arms folded, looking at Constance. He suddenly moved and took her chart again, busying himself for a few minutes, flicking through her morning notes, while Mildred finished off and Amelia went over to the window to look through the blinds.

Mildred presently went into the bathroom and found Constance's bag, pulling out her hairbrush. She went around to the right side of Constance, squeezing between the main monitor, blood pressure machine and the bed, and cast her spell with suppressed glee. Constance never stirred as Mildred gently began to brush her long locks from where she stood, minding she didn't knock any drips, wires or her oxygen tubing.

To make sure Mildred was as close as she could be to aid both patient and pupil, Herbert had ordered all the machines and drip stands to be on just the one side so Mildred's makeshift bed could be on the other; consequently, there were wires everywhere!

"Everything all right, Herbert?" Amelia said quietly, trying to peer at Constance's notes and not really hiding her clear interest very well.

"Yes, I think so," he replied in a hushed voice. "We're going to keep her monitored for a while longer yet. Regular BP checks and continual pulse ox and her heart, of course. She'll still need the oxygen for another couple of days, I think, as well. Just to be sure she's maintaining her saturation, as it's still dipping on occasion. And stitches, central line and catheter out soon, hopefully."

Amelia nodded, taking it all in. Mildred beckoned Amelia over and lifted up the corner of the now-damp towel on Constance's pillow. Amelia obliged by vanishing it from beneath and sending it to the dirty laundry deposit at the top of the corridor.

"Hudson is going to keep her on, too, and Doctor Roebuck also said she'd like to make sure she is all right until discharge; I think both of them want to make absolutely certain they've done their level best for her."

"Oh, Herbert, you've all done that and more. I can never thank you enough, and neither can Constance, I'm sure."

"Or me!" Mildred added softly.

Herbert smiled. "Our pleasure. Oh, and Gilbert will be back soon, of course. Her surgeon. He's a very clever guy, doubly trained, great chap. Although he **is** somewhat renowned for pulling practical jokes on fellow doctors, including me. Do not get me started on the cling film under the toilet seat incident!" Herbert laughed quietly. "When he comes again he'll likely have his favourite theatre nurse with him. She's wanting to be a trauma nurse and he says she's his best student to date and is trying to push her into being a surgeon as she is so clever. He trusts her implicitly and she was the one who took over when the helicopter landed to give me some breathing space … We all call her 'Doc' already, so she's well prepared! Doctor Faulmack will be back at some point, too. Other than clinical concern, I suspect he wants to talk to her out of academic interest. And the physiotherapy will be restarted in a day or so. Once she's a little stronger again."

Mildred finished off and went to put the brush away, then grabbed her magazine from the table and sat down, snuggling into her provided pillows and laid-out quilt, her right hand finding its way to Constance's left, as usual.

"Well, I've a few errands to run in the city and I also need to be thinking about what to feed us today; I may think of the hospital food as edible but acquired taste, but when trying to actively encourage eating it's better to have good quality grub for the majority of the time."

Amelia wondered how far up on the list cheese was in his estimation of being 'good quality grub'.

"Would you care to come for a ride with me, Amelia?"

"Do you know, I think I would. I'm sure the ladies can manage without me until later this afternoon. Mildred, will you be all right, dear?"

Mildred smiled. "We'll be fine, Miss Cackle."

Amelia smiled back as she walked towards the door. With Mildred always around, she knew she wouldn't be able to talk to Constance properly for a while longer yet. Besides, Herbert might be more forthcoming away from the hospital environment.

Herbert leaned over and whispered to Mildred. "Any requests while I'm out?"

Mildred thought for a moment and whispered a reply in his ear. He winked at her and the pair left, leaving Mildred and Constance alone, with nothing but the mellifluous sound of Constance's slow breathing, her audible heartbeat, and Mildred's occasionally turned pages to break the silence.

* * *

"Is she going to be alright now?" Amelia asked Herbert as they walked along the corridor together.

"I hope so. She was very, very lucky Amelia. **Very** lucky."

Amelia blinked away her tears and took his offered arm.

* * *

"Are you still really sleepy?"

Constance had opened her eyes about twenty minutes after Amelia and Herbert had left. Mildred had waited for a good few minutes to see if she was going to drift back off before asking her question.

"What's wrong?" Constance croaked, immediately aware Mildred needed to say something specific to her. She swallowed a couple of times. Her throat had dried up again, causing her to cough. She watched as Mildred leaned over, placed her magazine on the tablet and solemnly stood to give her a drink of water.

"What is it, Mildred?" Constance said softly, half holding the glass and taking a cooling gulp through the straw.

"I … I don't know what I'd have done if … if I'd lost you …"

Constance's straight face crumpled slightly, her eyes never moving from her young cousin.

Mildred hesitated for several seconds, their gaze meeting each other's, then she replaced the glass on the table and extremely cautiously climbed on the bed beside Constance's left, laying her head very gently on Constance's shoulder. This moment had been building up for days and she wanted nothing more than to cling onto Constance with all her might.

Constance gingerly, gradually, and with clearly timorous movement, managed to put her arm around her.

"I … I thought that you would hate me when I told you. I thought you already hated me," she muttered, her voice barely capable of being heard.

Mildred, with due care, put her hand over Constance's waist to her other arm and took her hand gently. Squeezing hard would have to wait for a while.

"How could I ever hate you? And now you're the only real family I have left. Just … promise me you won't ever leave me."

Constance closed her eyes. A tear trickled down her right cheek. Mildred didn't seem to notice.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. You are now friends with Ethel Hallow. **Ethel Hallow**."

Ruby was looking incredulously at Maud and Enid, standing with her arms folded defensively beside Jadu, who was in front of Drusilla. Ethel was nervously standing beside Enid and looking very uncomfortable. They were virtually alone in the hallway and Ruby's tapping foot of annoyance was beginning to grate on everyone else's nerves.

"In a nutshell, yes," Maud and Enid chorused.

"Um … WHY?!" Ruby stressed, her eyes flashing with flared temper. Jadu, despite Maud's earlier warning, still appeared somewhat flummoxed.

Enid folded her arms, huffing. "Like we said. At fifteen, enough of the petty fights. Life's too short and Miss Cackle and everyone else need us to pull together and keep this place in check, and we – as third-years – should be making sure everyone does their bit. So are you in or out?"

Ruby looked at Jadu for input, feeling somewhat confused. Enid's explanation had left her even more puzzled, which wasn't helping her lingering anger at their rejection. Ruby's scientific brain was often the cause of her being slightly less instinctively caring in her nature than Jadu, but it didn't stop her own feelings being hurt.

"And that's it, Enid? That's your reasoning for forgetting everything **she** has done since we all started here!" Ruby snarled, nodding towards Ethel. "When you think of the stunts she's pulled! How can you just ignore all that?"

"Rubes, we could give it a try, you know? Under the circumstances?" Jadu said softly. Perhaps the most tactful of them all – or at least she tried to be – Jadu realised very quickly that this borderline argument could spill into one big irreversible fight if they were not careful.

Ruby huffed and folded her arms to match Enid's stance.

Ethel looked at Maud and Enid then cleared her throat.

"Look, er … I know I can't ever say enough to any of you to excuse my behaviour and the things I've done, especially to Mildred … but I promise you I've changed. This … everything that's happened …" she quickly glanced at Enid, "has made me realise it's just like Enid said: we're old enough to know better and act better. I … don't want to be the person you – everyone – all hate, any more. I'm so sorry. Really I am so very sorry."

Ruby blinked and unfolded her arms, but her hands were still clenched.

Drusilla stepped forwards a little, torn between loyalty to her new friends and her concern towards her old friend. Ethel hadn't always been nice to her, either, and often she had felt used, but she had seen the good sides to her, as well, and missed her.

"Could we give it a try? Please? I think they are right: we all need to pull together."

There was a long pause after Drusilla's words, then, "Okay, okay. But if she starts –" Ruby began.

"She won't. It's water under the bridge," Maud said firmly. Ethel nodded towards Ruby, smiling timidly.

Ruby nodded and Drusilla moved to take Ethel's arm as a show of support. Jadu joined up with Ruby, giving her hand a quick squeeze to say thank you, and Maud and Enid linked up, too. They all proceeded from the hallway towards the dining room, where Ethel and Drusilla sat directly next to each other. They smiled at Ruby and Jadu, sitting opposite, who obligingly smiled back, wondering just what the hell had happened that they did not know about, and if they ever would be told the real truth.

Enid and Maud acknowledged each other's gaze, knowing that more questions from the three, Ruby especially, would eventually emerge once Mildred was back into the fore. But they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

Presently, they heard Mrs Tapioca's voice ringing out about the room.

"Ahh, my little bambinos, sitting ready for me like at a proper Italian restaurant, ah? Is-a mushroom, cheese-a and bacon omelettes for breakfast. You will all a like-a, no?"

All six girls swiftly scraped back their chairs and ran out of the dining room.

"You've got plenty of sweets stashed, right?" Enid checked as they headed for the main staircase.

Ethel and Drusilla nodded, grinning. All of them disappeared upstairs, laughing with deliberate effort together. It was a start.

* * *

Doctor Hudson McNeale opened the door to Constance's room and stopped halfway through as he spotted the two on the bed together. He walked over quietly to find that Mildred was wide awake. She turned her head to look at him.

"Um, strictly speaking, Mil …" he whispered.

"I know. Off the bed." Mildred very gently lifted herself up, unlatching Constance's unresisting arm from around her shoulders and laying it back down carefully.

Hudson smiled and picked up Constance's chart. Mildred stifled a yawn as she sat back in her chair.

"Are you managing to get enough rest at night, my dear?"

Mildred nodded. "I rest better when I'm with her." She smiled in what she hoped was a convincing way.

"Well, hopefully it won't be long before we can get her back home. I daresay Herbert has filled you in, and being as she is clearly getting the peaceful rest she needs right now, I shall leave you both in peace. I can be paged immediately should anything change."

"Thank you," Mildred mouthed as her replaced the chart and left the room. She looked back to Constance, wondering if she was sleeping peacefully … or not …

_**Constance landed gracefully on a long gravel path leading up to a creamy white stone cottage in the middle of a lusciously green forest. Dismounting, she carefully placed her bag and broomstick against a large oak tree at the very bottom of the path, looking upwards as the birds in the trees eyed her silently, puffing themselves up in the protection of their feathers. Silence. Eerie silence surrounded her. The inky lake was as still as sheet ice, and the resident family of swans nowhere to be seen. The wind had no tremble of movement. The sun, beaming down upon her warming back, was fading by the second, hiding behind oncoming clouds.**_

_**It was as if Mother Nature was bracing herself for what was to come.**_

_**Constance took a slow breath, deep and sustained, closing and reopening her eyes and bringing them back into focus upon the cottage before her as she walked towards it. The greenery extended from the forest; it enveloped the cottage and surrounded its pathway with thick-leafed plants and wild flowers, masses of honeysuckle and vines of ivy. The stone was old and yet fresh-looking, as if renewed in recent years with paint. The roof was thickly thatched, almost bulbous in places where the overhanging straw was tightly compacted to guarantee its structural defence against the elements. The chimney looked as safe and secure as the visible attic mice nestled in the eaten-away holes at the side of it – tunnels of unquestionable warmth all year round. The three frontal windows were clean, shiny and just still reflective of the fading rays of light from above. The door itself was dark violet in colour and covered in hand-painted feverfew flowers with black leaves, each one encrusted with tiny precious stones, and the creeping ivy that crawled upwards and swathed the front and sides of the cottage was so verdant it made the forest seem pale in comparison. The dwelling looked like something from a fairy tale, and Constance shivered as she approached the half-open front door.**_

_**She didn't need to be particularly quiet; she knew Henbane's afternoon routine was virtually guaranteed. And she knew she would never hear her in time to stop her …**_

_**As Constance entered the cottage and turned immediately into the living room through the wide-open door, she saw Henbane was dozing, as predicted, in her armchair in front of the unlit fireplace. Constance sounded out a spell in her head. Henbane seemed to stop breathing, her entire body freezing in its place. Constance approached with reservation, her own respiration coming in infrequent gasps of air whenever her body overpowered her timorous mind to grasp more oxygen than it was receiving.**_

_**Constance stood for a moment, taking in the room and its articles, gazing around the walls.**_

_**The room she had feared so much in childhood was the same in structure, yet as if from another life. It glistened with gold and brass, stunning Tiffany lamps, ornamental antiques and lovingly-restored items of furniture and grandiose paintings. The walls were wallpapered in gold and lilac, and curtains at the perfectly functioning window matching the paper, florally patterned with little satin violets. The books were shiny and dust-free, evidently products of regular attention. Above the room hung a crystal chandelier – small but beautiful – which was throwing rainbow prisms across the ceiling as the light from Henbane's reading lamp shone upwards like a torch. The small walnut table by the door was highly polished; on the top was a gramophone, and piled next to it record upon record, all in pristine condition. The woven rug beneath her feet was so thick and colourful it seemed to lift from its place on the richly carpeted floor. Awash with tradition and splendour, the room could have been from another time in her memory; a time she still remembered so well.**_

_**Constance closed her eyes and allowed just two tears to befall her face before she briskly swept them away, glancing once at her aunt before leaving to say a long-awaited farewell to the place of her nightmares.**_

_**She drifted between rooms at leisure, no visible reaction upon her face, for she had seen it all before. The modern yet countrified kitchen and sheltered porch, where from her aunts' double swing would sway from time to time throughout the year, was as it usually was: immaculate. The lavish dining room and exquisite gold-plated bathroom were equally spotless, as were the luxurious bedrooms of her aunts, side by side above the living and dining rooms and interconnected by a door between them, meaning they were never truly alone. **_

_**The twin sisters had a bond no one could break through, for better – or worse. And, though often apart, they would savour the time when they were together. Their type of bond was initially something unfathomable to Constance – until Constance came to know what such a bond between two people truly meant. **_

_**Constance entered the space that was once her room. She lifted her hand to touch the perfectly plastered ceiling, no match now for her exceedingly tall figure, then sat on the soft bed and put her head in her hands. She breathed in Gabriella's sweet scent that was still upon her skin from clutching her so tightly only a short time ago. It was time. Time to do what she had gone there to do. Beneath her feet was everything her aunts had worked for – were still working for; hidden from sight and penetration; a room that was no room, for it didn't have a door or even a window. A room which was open to only those who knew how to enter it. And Constance had, for a long time, known how to do just that.**_

_**Descending the staircase, she turned at the bottom to the left and stopped, running her skeletal fingers against the oak-panelled wood until she stopped again suddenly and pressed the area with the palm of her hand. The wood gave way and opened a small crevice. Constance drew in closer and blew into it with a quick, sharp breath. Instantly the stairs seemed to hover as the support beneath them gave way to an open tunnel through the wall; beyond this tunnel lay the former small, sealed storeroom that was now bigger than the entire cottage thrice over, magically expanded and inclusive of almost all the twins' worthy and worldly goods. A complex series of spells kept Foster's at bay; Constance knew the pair occasionally had to replace or rework them when the energy contained therein became too strong for the surrounding barrier to handle. Oh, yes. Constance knew a lot of things. **_

_**Leaving the tunnel open, Constance went once more into the living room and looked upon her aunt. She waved her hand and her aunt's body lifted, stiff, into the air. Constance turned and walked towards the door, the floating woman following obediently behind her. Constance stepped out onto the path, allowing the figure of her aunt to exit through. She lowered her to the ground and confidently looked up. **_

_**Hecketty was heading with increasing velocity straight towards them, and from her right hand was emerging a furious ball of Magilec. Constance shot out a blast of purple light, obliterating the mass; Hecketty's broom stopped abruptly in mid-air and she was flung from it at intense speed. Her body flew a number of feet across before plummeting towards the ground, where it stopped further up the path, inches away from impact. Hecketty's body then dropped the last few inches and landed with a dull thud as Constance released her.**_

_**Constance strode forwards and knelt, turning the limp form of her second aunt over. She gave an understated smile and raised her hands, commanding both siblings into the air. She continued to walk along the path, both women floating along behind her, stopping just near the grass-surrounded tree. She turned and lowered the pair slightly to her height, positioning them so that they were upright and facing the direction of the cottage, before walking around so she could face them. She snapped her fingers twice and the pair awoke: Henbane from her frozen stupor and Hecketty from her sudden faint of fright. Snapping her fingers again, they found themselves unable to do anything, even blink. They were fully conscious and cognisant of their surroundings, but were otherwise powerless statues. They could only see their niece before them, and hear the wind starting to roar as the clouds above them turned from white to black.**_

_**Constance looked at the pair icily before turning and walking back up the path, casually flicking her hand towards her Aunt Hecketty's handbag and destroying it in one fell swoop as she passed. Charred remains of a pinkish-brown book and numerous sheets of paper floated down as the remnants of fire sent them curling back onto the ground. They saw her click her fingers and watched as a dark square object appeared in her hands before she closed the door on them.**_

_**The pair watching the cottage and its inhabitant were left alone, able to do only that: watch – and wait.**_

_**Constance emerged a short time later from the cottage, the door closing quietly behind her. In her hands was the espied object: a shoebox-sized container, black in colour and held together by jawed teeth, as if the box had swallowed, shark-like, whatever was inside it. She placed the box on the ground and walked towards them; as she approached, they began to float back a little further, until they were directly under the branches of the tree. Constance soon joined them, turning her back to them once more. All three were watching the box. **_

_**Constance lifted her head up and glanced upwards at the sky, sensing the lightning held within the clouds; she could smell the rain droplets in the air and feel the coolness of the breeze against her face. She clapped her hands together and the box opened wide, allowing for an explosion of full-sized articles to spew out of the tiny exit and splash into the gravel at speed, kicking the small stones everywhere like a meteorite shower and digging the nearest plants out from the surrounding grassy ground with the force.**_

_**Henbane and Hecketty looked on helplessly as their entire life's work was increasingly pulled from its place of safety into the wild air. Their potions laboratory in full was spilling out onto the path; hundreds upon hundreds of containers and phials and sacks of ingredients were being strewn about the tended garden in front of the cottage, some smashing and oozing their liquid contents. Reams and reams of scrolled paper ran out onto the grass. Books were pelted one after the other thick and fast. Crystal balls of varying shapes and sizes landed like catapulted cannons. Countless blue-coloured glass wine jars sloshed vibrant silvery-green liquid everywhere as their corks became dislodged upon impact. Cauldrons, pestle and mortars, chairs, tables, tripods and Bunsen burners followed a thousand utensils of witchcraft, along with cloaks, black hats, gowns and, finally, a broomstick to join Hecketty's now-snapped one on the ground. The pile was higher than the cottage itself and twice as wide. It cast shadows upon the three beneath the tree as the ominous clouds began a thunderous dance with the wind.**_

_**Constance turned back and glared into their staring eyes, clicking her fingers once more as the box vanished and reappeared still-open into her hands. She shut the jaws with a clunk and placed it safely back into her bag, from whence it came. She walked back before them and conjured a small blade. Lifting her right arm she didn't even flinch as she sliced it into her flesh and removed a small capsule of flashing metal. She flung the knife and menacing implant towards the rocky accumulation. Placing her right hand above the wound she closed her eyes and sealed the dripping cut, vanishing the blood stains in the process.**_

_**Constance then turned away from them again and twitched her casting fingers on both hands. Seconds later a booming ripping noise erupted from beneath the ground. A large, wooden chest came rising out of the earth. It flew passed them, emerging from far within the forest area. The chest landed with a loud thud on top of the teetering mountain, causing a few dozen items to tumble down like a landslide. Constance flicked her right hand and forced the bound lid open. Inside were oodles and oodles of money notes, tightly compacted into a space that far outweighed the maximum capacity of the chest itself.**_

_**Constance allowed her arms to rest by her sides, standing very still and staring ahead, listening to the brewing storm. She hadn't moved for nearly ten minutes, when suddenly she raised her arms high into the air. Henbane and Hecketty became aware of a heightening screech of noise, mingling into the mounting air around them, and watched as Constance's body rose a few feet from the ground.**_

_**Constance's eyes were closed and fingertips sparking; her long, loose hair was curling of its own accord, gently, as if she was underwater, undulating and twirling around her with the electric pull of the energy she was governing. A progressively expanding sphere of brilliant whiteness was illuminating her body, forming into an orb. The orb then shot from her hands, surrounding the mountainous pile before them. It lapped itself around the articles like a milky bubble, completely enveloping them within. Constance herself was stock-still in mid-air, and no longer wearing a long black dress, but a long white one, along with white shoes. And she was as luminescent as the orb itself. The din of pure power was deafening. Henbane and Hecketty watched in indescribable horror as the heavens opened and a strike of lightning detonated the ball with a flash so blindingly astounding their eyes were temporarily dazzled into blackness.**_

_**Constance lowered her arms and felt her feet hit the ground, like she had jumped from a chair. The cottage was now completely devoid of any magic within. The mass had disappeared into nothingness, leaving no trace of its existence other than dents of damage upon the earthy ground.**_

_**Constance opened her eyes and watched as the clouds began to clear, finding herself dressed in black once more. Unexpectedly to the traumatised pair behind her, she fell forwards to her knees with a retched, howled mixture of relief and appal. She had done it. She had done what she had always intended to do, but never thought she actually could – or would.**_

_**'Do it sooner rather than later', Gabby had told her. She knew her so well. Knew she wouldn't be able to go through with it if she had given them a chance to talk – or herself a chance to talk. And so she hadn't. She had stayed as silent as the stone of the very cottage.**_

_**But now she needed to do the talking. Despite such a revenge-filled build-up to this moment, she felt empty; ill; still incomplete. She needed to tell them why. Needed them to understand. Needed the absolution of her own soul to be witnessed by the very people who were almost completely without one. **_

_**Closing her eyes briefly and taking a steadying breath, she tried to stand but couldn't; her legs wouldn't carry her. She crawled around and half-lay before the two hovering witches above her, keeping her head down and focusing her vision.**_

_**"I … I …" Her voice was shaking along with her body. She gritted her teeth to stop them chattering and drew a calming breath through her nose, forcing the vocals to leave her throat. "I … h-h-had p-planned this for s-so l-long … S-so very l-long … Did you k-know that?"**_

_**Constance looked up unblinkingly at both siblings, her voice so telling of her emotional state she knew she must conquer it to continue in the vein she intended. **_

_**"D-did … Did you know that … for years … I planned my revenge … Planned exactly what I'd do when the time came … Now … I've had that revenge … And yet … I'm not happy. I'm angry. So … so angry … Angry that I had to act upon it. Angry that you couldn't just let me go … Let your d-damned prized bird free from her c-cage …"**_

_**The two hovering women made no visual gestures. Their eyes continued to stare straight ahead, already mourning their colossal loss. Constance picked up pace again, stronger than before. **_

_**"Sometimes it's hard to figure out what your grand plan was, in the end … It became so … muddied … so frantic … I know how it began … You had a set plan at the start. An intricate plan … yet a simple plan. And you were in prime position to invoke it. Fated, even. Indeed, you invoked it so efficiently it was almost genius … You only wanted one thing, in the end – me."**_

_**Constance shuffled slightly on the ground, determining whether she could yet stand. An attempt to lift herself proved once again fruitless, and so she remained, looking upwards as she continued to speak.**_

_**"You're no doubt wondering how I knew what to do … I've known for a long time … Ever since that day … A day I … I r-remember so well … That day I finally saw you both for what you truly were … Saw past any glimpses I had seen by accident when your blockades failed … And discovered things were not quite as they seemed … You can't imagine the shock … That day when I saw … I SAW the truth right before my eyes … You … had both burned memories into my brain with flames so intense that … for a time, I was unable to distinguish truth from lie … Until that day … by the lake. I was so ill. So weak. Another attempt at that damn potion; another attempt gone wrong, and I had to suffer the consequences until it worked its way through my system. Only the consequences this time were far more severe … They would prove to be so severe the final time that you vowed you'd never try again … But at least the third time I had the support of my friend and ally … That time by the lake I was alone … I thought so often how easy it would be to end it. End my existence here … So much easier than living like the dead … But, dear Aunt Henbane … you found me … And how you fought to bring me back …"**_

_**Hecketty evidently tried to gasp at this point, unable to as her jaw was locked in place, and Henbane's eyes flashed in uncomfortable realisation.**_

_**Constance raised an eyebrow. "You had no idea, did you?" She pulled herself upright and unsteadily stood directly before them. "Your own twin didn't tell you she nearly killed your niece …" She turned her head slightly to the side. "But then, you didn't tell her you almost pushed too far, either, did you?" she said to Hecketty, then looked directly at Henbane, seeing the pennies literally beginning to drop in the eyes of the frozen pair. "No … I didn't think so …"**_

_**Constance took a slow breath and stared across to the lake, now rippling so smoothly it was almost unnoticeable.**_

_**"I only meant to cool myself down that day … I'd … been under my favourite tree … The big weeping willow by the swans' nesting place … I was so hot … I only wanted to shower my burning head and eyes so I could breathe a little easier through the pain … I didn't mean to fall in. And … I was so weak from the vomiting … I could barely struggle … And a part of me didn't want to …"**_

_**Constance sighed shakily.**_

_**"And it frightened you, didn't it? Seeing me so willing to let go … float away … I almost did. The water was so … inviting … and calm … I could feel it filling my lungs and the air flowing out in a perfect exchange … As if I was breathing in silk … Entering a dream for the first time in so long … I could never dream with you around … There were only nightmares … and when I'd wake they would still be there … THE ONE PLACE I SHOULD HAVE FELT SAFE FROM YOU WAS IN MY DREAMS!"**_

_**Constance yelled her last burst of breath, drawing it back with a squeal of frustration as she covered her face with her hands. Minutes of silence passed, during which she drew deep breath after deep breath to steady her voice until she could go on.**_

_**"But it wasn't like in a nightmare or a horror story … There was no fear … No panic … Just … blissful release … Almost … divine … It would have been so easy to let it take me … Let it pull me down like a magnet … I knew that, if I allowed it to happen, I'd be free, and my eventual task would be another's … But I couldn't place that burden on them … And I … I opened my eyes and began to fight … But the water was so heavy on my clothes … Every droplet was drawing me in like quicksand and dragging me back beneath the surface … Then suddenly I could feel you struggling with my body, wrapping your arms around me and pulling me upwards … And then there was nothing to see … Just blackness … And then daylight … And you … And my body …"**_

_**Constance looked up at her aunt. "You saved me." Constance almost laughed, suppressing her disdain. "After EVERYTHING you saved me! I watched as you thumped on my chest and shrieked at me to breathe … Watched as you covered my blue mouth with yours and frantically poured life back into your so-hated niece … I wanted to cry out but I couldn't. I wanted to move but couldn't. I was frozen … Just watching. Watching a terrified woman pound and pound a girl's lifeless body until finally the body began to cough …"**_

_**Henbane's unfocused eyes showed her mind's regression to that day. Constance continued, more slowly this time, her determined tone of voice not quite masking her gradually escaping grief.**_

_**"I can't remember going back … Not really … But I remember that first full breath of air – air no longer motionless with death but coloured so deeply with earth's ever-changing essence it seemed to invade and swarm around my senses like perfumed fire. I remember opening my eyes and the blurriness giving way to hard clarity as my heart pumped and pumped so fast to reawaken my paralysed body …"**_

_**Constance's face crumpled slightly and she snatched a croaked inhalation as tears began to form. She turned and briskly wiped her face, drawing a steadying lungful of the strained atmosphere around her. She continued speaking with her back turned away from the pair.**_

_**"I remember that look in your eyes … Those wide hazel eyes staring down at me … Eyes like my mother's … It … for just a moment … took me back … And it took you back … And I saw what had happened … Right back at the beginning …"**_

_**Constance gripped her own arms as she continued. The beginning of the end had begun.**_

_**"I felt it for you, you know. I could only imagine how hard it must have been to be the eldest children and see each generation attended to with seemingly more affection time after time. I know you didn't want for love, but I can understand how it must have pained you to receive it in such dilute form, especially after my mother was born. I know you couldn't understand why my grandfather seemed to adore my mother above all of you. I suppose, to you, she had everything. Did it not occur to you that without your love her talents meant nothing to her? That she couldn't understand why you felt so jealous of her and your other siblings? My mother told me you didn't have it easy as children; that you would act up because you wanted to stand out against your sisters; that you were both viciously bullied and that's why you tried to turn the tables on your fellow pupils. And how you, Aunt Hecketty, finally lost your temper and tried to encase your school in a block of ice after a torrent of bats attacked you on the command of another pupil and left you with a nastily infected bite for months. But your bad behaviour didn't last forever. Once you were home tutored you began to grow up, and although you were not without fault – still unable to bring yourselves to love your family, and my mother, as much as they loved and cared for you – you seemed to be finding your feet and were making plans for the future. And when you met your intellectual matches, and despite yourselves fell in love with them, for once you were innocent of any crime, and guilty of only the inevitable foolishness of youth and the flattering of men. My mother did all she could to help. You KNOW she did. She threatened her very LIFE without hesitation and it was YOUR mother who stopped her. My mother was willing to risk her life for that of your unborn child's, because she knew, despite its reckless conception, that you desperately wanted the child growing inside you. And that loss affected you more than you could have imagined, didn't it, Aunt Henbane? But was the blame truly at my mother's feet? Or even my grandmother's? Would it have made you happy if she had succeeded but paid the price? There was no guarantee it would have made any difference – it wasn't even born!"**_

_**Constance stopped and swallowed, taking a moment to regain her thread of speech from its heightened state. She was visibly shaking once again and trying her best to maintain her composure. She hadn't even started yet, and needed to continue before she exploded. Her back was still turned to the aunts and that was how it would stay until she had finished her oncoming tirade; she knew if she turned around now but once her fingertips would engage and strike before her brain could even question her morality.**_

_**"You knew the risk. Grandmother knew the risk, and SHE was the one who said no. My mother didn't turn away from her still-beloved sister – she was dragged. But you couldn't see past it, could you? Couldn't see past the fact that when you needed her she came without question and didn't once think of herself. You didn't think of her as pathetic when you thought she could help you! But … the damage was done. The baby was gone; your relationships in tatters; your trust of your other twin sisters damaged beyond repair, and soon after you became lost to us all … But you found hope. Someone who could help you form a life to share together. And despite some burdensome strains and sorrows – your unfortunate ill-health, Aunt Henbane, and the early loss of your truly loved guardian – you seemed to finally be finding some stability in your lives. But then … after all your years spent building up your empire, along came the destroyer of your plans – my father. But can he truly be blamed? It was his JOB! He didn't know who it was behind it all! He couldn't possibly have known what would happen – that you were still inside. The building itself had been determined to be potentially lethal if entered and he was given no choice. I heard Mother say to Father that she always felt there was something was wrong the night he was required to do the Federation's bidding but she couldn't say what, but we know now, don't we? It was because you'd closed yourselves off so effectively she wasn't remotely close to sensing it was YOU in the building he had been ordered to obliterate!"**_

_**Constance paused to take a few quick breaths, feeling her temper rising.**_

_**"And when you received me, and you discovered the truth about who my father was, you both convinced yourselves it was their fault; that the way your lives had panned out was down purely and simply to my parents. That they were entirely to blame for what you had suffered and were still suffering and would continue to suffer. Was that how you justified your actions upon me as the years passed by? An act of fitting revenge?!"**_

_**Constance stopped again, her speech muted as she listened to the calm around her for several moments.**_

_**"I barely know where to begin … To try and dissect it all in my head so that I can release it with every word I speak until I can speak no more …"**_

_**The sunlight was still hidden, and the chill in the air with its absence was not serving to help her trembling body. She made a mind to continue, and not stop until she could breathe fully once again.**_

_**"From that conviction of your minds came a plan … A plan you had already begun to incite which, with me, then became far more perfect than you could have ever dreamed of … A plan of two halves that would eventually merge as one … A plan to make me so submissive you could completely swipe away the personality so carefully nurtured by my parents and replace it with one of your own making, and thus create a miniature version of you both – academically, physically and emotionally practically perfect in every way – the ultimate act of revenge upon those you felt did you so wrong. So excellent would I be I'd eventually be your crowning glory and legacy – the legacy for your greatest triumph! But then, why not govern my upbringing with that same love and adoration you'd have undoubtedly both shed upon that child? You can't even answer that question yourself – but I can. Because that bitter hatred burning deep inside does nothing but fuel the blackness of your soul, and no matter how much you reasoned your way through your deeds over the years, in the end, your choices were not directly your own, but the choice of the evil residing inside you. Evil I cannot, regretfully, ever undo. You are already lost. I know in the beginning your intentions, although perverse to any moralistic mind, were not entirely vicious and vindictive; there was, to your minds, reasoning – reasoning enough that your then-humanitarian minds could override the darkness creeping into your soul for, in your own words, 'The future of witchcraft'. You hoped, in the end, I'd understand why you acted the way you did, and enforced upon me all that you provoked."**_

_**Constance sniffed and quickly moved her arm to wipe her face. Her voice was in danger of becoming a croak, and she cleared it quietly, continuing where she left off.**_

_**"And as time passed … and more damage set in, it became obvious you were both losing control, and so I came to pity you more than hate you. Oh – be assured – I do still hate you, and I know you hate me, too. Some say that apathy is the opposite of hatred, but I don't believe that. In order to hate, you must first love, and an element of that love must remain in order for the hatred to continue to manifest. I cannot prevent my love for you – my want to save your Ecliptic souls from the fate that awaits them. And you cannot prevent your inherent love for me; it is the same love that governed your actions and prevented you going too far and killing me … But even if that had happened, my soul would have still tried to save you one last time. But I cannot. It's out of my power now. And you are well aware of what that means for you both. I wonder: did you ever stop and think about the consequences of your 'great plan' going wrong? You coped with your admittedly copious losses, for you had gained something far more valuable – me, and what I held within me. It must have seemed fated when you were contacted that night … That time, that year … To find out you were to receive me … And the Almanac … You planned virtually everything down to the last detail – you would show everyone what you could really do and then no one would ever hurt you both again. But was your pride really so important to you? For you to spend years putting everything into that one possibility? The police didn't even speak to me or tell me where I was going. I remember a cold, hard voice telling them I needed 'psychiatric evaluation' following my collapse. What I needed was to know I was still loved by someone – loved by anyone! Instead of being left on my own … But I didn't receive that. They say love hurts … Love hurts, all right. In order to have your soul torn apart from hatred it must first have been knitted together with love. My soul was full of love until that fateful day … And when I arrived here, I was still half-hoping that things would not be as I feared … My heart sank when you first presented me with the book you so forcibly gained from me … I should have realised before that moment what your intentions were, given what you had done to get it … Then you briefly allowed my drawing power to emerge in order to gain you the antidotes before hastily suppressing my abilities lest I become … difficult … before you'd had a chance to teach me my place in your lives … I was a ghost from that moment on; going through the motions of living. Until that day at the lake … We've come a full circle now, haven't we? As I said … you can't imagine the shock … Well, maybe you can, all things considered … But the shock of seeing into your mind, Aunt Henbane, and all you had kept shielded from me – quite literally … I thought I was going mad …"**_

_**Constance snorted. "Madness. There is irony there, I think, in your cases. Every word I say to you generates a thousand thoughts … For years the truth of your past and your reasoning has burned through my mind and heart … Infiltrated my soul and begged me to seek revenge … If I were to stand here and detail each aspect of our shared past, I fear I may lose my control … But some of it must come forth … I may die if it doesn't …" **_

_**Constance left her words hanging for a few seconds, for there was no exaggeration; to have continued without releasing what she had so long ago gained would surely result in pain so great it finally broke her beyond physical repair.**_

_**"I suppose I should start from the beginning. Tell the tale as I saw it and see how well it fits to what I suffered. The day I arrived you brought me into a shack; a cold, dark, damp hovel of a cottage, which was encrusted with filth from ceiling to floor. You placed me in front of a table and demanded I draw from my book the antidote spells you knew of but had never seen. As children you were taught the book was not a toy, and as adults fortuitously in receipt of it you were plunged back into that excitable world of anticipation of something amazing in your midst. But there was no real plan for such recurrent and varied use of the book's contents at the time, was there? No. It was for certain uses only … and my actions were merely a way of having cast-iron copies should you need them, just in case … Not that you really believed 'just in case' was possible. No. Anastasia had made the book 'safe' to your knowledge and you did not fear any other outcome. You were still wrapped in your little world of the most perfect plan … But I digress. My new home was enough to make even the strongest sink into oblivion, and I realised immediately that my life would be quite the literal take on Cinderella, but you even managed to expand on that, did you not? And then, that night, in my cell of a room, I was forced to swallow the most vile-tasting substance I've ever had the misfortune to ingest. And all tasted the same: only the potions' smell and brief hue of colour before blackness took over upon the ingredients' final blending gave the indication of what each was. From the first night until I was at College, you suppressed my power, only allowing it to leave its cage when you wanted a demonstration. But that's not all you suppressed … Can you imagine, Aunts, lying so weak, so still, and suddenly receiving so much information you feel you could die from the sheer strain of it? To have your heart pounding so much it hurts?"**_

_**Constance smiled briefly. **_

_**"Of course you can. Your hearts are pounding now … And how mine was back then … To suddenly see that, for years, I had been living in such luxury, magnificence, warmth and light? I truly thought I had lost my last few threads of sanity; that you had finally ground me so low I was no longer even aware of myself. But you hadn't. It was all an elaborate attempt to turn me into a shadow – one that would disappear when you turned on the lights and in its place would be a new person: one of your creation, brought forth to begin – and continue – your legacy. I … I remember those first nights … So … so very cold … How I longed for just one more candle to give me just a little more heat to counteract the draught from my window. Only there wasn't a draught …"**_

_**Constance stopped as she felt a reaction within her mind from her aunts behind her. She laughed fleetingly. It was far from a comfortable acknowledgement from the pair.**_

_**"Ohhh … Did you think that I still didn't know? You, of all people, must have had an inkling, Aunt Hecketty, considering the events of a few months ago … I was, indeed, once incapable of seeing through your protections – but not now. Not for a long time. I realised how unsure of yourselves you were – to have gone to such great lengths … I waited until I was alone one day and investigated the place of my nightmares. It wasn't long after the accident. I was free to move around; too weak to go far; besides, I was additionally tracked. I knew you would assume I was stretching my legs or taking in the air in the garden. But I was taking in more than that. I went into the kitchen first, my first time downstairs since that day at the lake, and saw the splendour I had been prevented from seeing before by my own distorted expectations. I saw with new eyes and clear vision the marble worktops and the shiny tiled floor; the quality carved wooden cupboards and glistening taps. The table was prepared for your evening meal – the imprinted silver cutlery was highly polished and laid out in order of service like a butler would provide. And then I saw my plate of food in its original state. The tears came before I could stop them; I longed to touch and eat the beautiful-looking fruit, but I couldn't do it. Not because you'd notice, but because the idea of ingesting anything was too sickening to comprehend … Then … I went to your torture chamber next. The sunlight inside the room was so bright …" **_

_**Constance snorted again. "For a room without a window it was incredibly bright! Bright and stunningly rich, and full of your ill-gotten gains. And the front room? Equally as opulent. Awash with my parents' things. And MY things! The unstable banister was as solid as an oak tree. The damp was no more real than the cold temperature of the water I bathed in. And my room? I was in no more danger of developing hypothermia than a Spaniard! I had a snug, comfortable bed with fluffy blankets and goose-feather pillows. My walls were richly papered and my half-melted candles were electric lamps! My soulless, sun-blocked window was as clear as day and sealed so well not even a force gale could have sent a draught through it! But it was thankful for you that I did indeed have floorboards – albeit highly polished ones; otherwise my chosen hiding place might well have led to my discovering all this sooner had I tried to force up what was really a thick carpet! The list goes on. Your interconnected bedrooms were so alike and yet individually reflective of your once-evident personalities; both were decorated with such heart and care, unchanged for many years and indicative of your earlier lives and loves. The bathroom was like something from an Indian palace: gold-plated taps, elaborately designed tiles, an enlarged cream bath and shower, fluffy towels and – I couldn't believe it – a heating system. Throughout the cottage I was breathing in air sweetly aromatic of flowers and herbs and not the mildew that seemed to be encrusted upon the walls. Walking on bouncy carpets and expensive rugs. My dresses were no more ragged and frayed than the newest spun silk!"**_

_**Constance looked down at her emaciated form and sighed.**_

_**"Of course, my surroundings were one thing, but for my physical being, it became a double-edged sword for you. By making my food unappealing in the extreme – food so convincingly putrid in its appearance that the true taste was obscured by the urge to vomit back the rotten concoctions set out for me – you knew it would, along with my environment, grind me down emotionally even further. But it had a rather greater physical effect than you envisaged, didn't it? I grew weaker and weaker until eventually you realised you would have to do something about it. But what? You couldn't expose a chink in your already-set armour – no – that would mean backtracking upon your actions. You couldn't change things now. So, instead, you would wait until I was unable to acknowledge a needled jab into my skin. Either late in the night, or perhaps when I'd fainted from the exhaustion of running on empty, or during a Shutdown episode you would inject me with specialist Sorcermed nutrients to nourish my body and keep me from the dangers of long-term starvation. Only those dangers never left – they continue to this day, for I am unable to enjoy or really tolerate food, even when I know it to be untainted, fresh and pure. I doubt I ever will. I became set in a pattern of rejection, barely eating what you set out for me and gaining what I could from sneaked woodland mushrooms and berries, picked in the early dawn and ingested with such voracity that they, too, were often rejected. Now, I masticate from necessity without ever seeing, smelling and tasting anything but the haunting echoes of the past. You have done this to me …"**_

_**Constance swallowed hard, flashes of memory entering her mind and with them a level of nausea that she forced back to whence it came. She would never allow the damage to show outwardly if she could help it. She took a slow breath and continued.**_

_**"There was little wonder when you both returned that day you couldn't rouse me until the next; I was too stunned to do anything but dive deep into my psyche and think wildly about my future and the meaning of the past. The realisation of how you tended to my wounds to make sure I healed properly when I was disallowed to heal myself without your say so had presented me with a picture that I simply could not fathom. My wounds – at least the premeditated ones – were inflicted with the greatest of care … Oh, yes. I saw that, too … That first day you … tried an enchantment on me from the Almanac past the suppressor … Aged eleven … And you invoked the Essence Capturer … And I finally saw what really happened … How those white sheets I sneakily watched you ripping in preparation were sterile bandages. How those blades and sharpened spoons were sterile surgical scalpels … You didn't rip off my clothes and pin me down like rabid dogs, or really lock the door with a rusted key … You didn't maniacally stab those instruments into my skin or funnel my serum into phials while I screamed on the floor … No … After the potion … I just remember crying out and falling … and then … then the rest … But … in reality … I was lying unconscious on the bed, drugged with a specifically mixed sedative you had added to the potion … And I was dreaming every step of the so-called 'procedure' … The first of many recurrent nightmares … And now … w-when I close my eyes, all I s-see …"**_

_**Constance took another determined breath, swallowing the bile in her throat as her raspy voice continued. **_

_**"All I can remember is what you wanted me to see …"**_

_**Constance put her hand to her mouth, her other to her stomach, fighting her need to vomit. Closing her eyes she muttered a spell in her head and waited for it to take effect. She did not care if it was obvious to them what she was doing; she needed to continue, come what may. She needed to. After a few moments, she relaxed a little, feeling less paralysed with the overwhelming sensation. Clearing her throat, she clicked her fingers and a long black whip appeared. Both women's eyes' flashed with obvious fear, but Constance did not need to see their reactions; she knew what they would be.**_

_**"Whips should never be used on horses, let alone people … Father used to make it impossible for those racing across the fields near our manor to use theirs whenever they passed. We would watch in glee as the horses would often stop and throw their cruel owners from the saddle. He never used a whip on our horses … But a whip is more painful when it is seen to be used … Yet no traces of my blood are encrusted upon this whip. The scars are in my memory …"**_

_**Constance threw the whip into the air and blasted it with a bolt of Magilec into smithereens.**_

_**"To get what you wanted from every angle things had to be very real to me … And, for a time, your apparent sadistic pleasure always flickered momentarily with empathy. A glassy look; an intake of breath; a stroked hand over my forehead or the covering of a blanket. I remember you both barely slept the night you removed the bandages, instead pacing back and forth downstairs for hours when you saw the scars had not disappeared like you were sure they would … And I … I had quite forgotten how I used to hear your frequent fits of retching. It was the only way you could calm yourselves from the shock of performing such actions upon a child, I imagine … Torturing me physically was never exactly the plan, was it? Not at first. No … It became clear you were going to have to physically hurt me, but still you intended to do it with the least effect to me physically and try and keep things more emotionally led. That was the plan, anyway. As time went on you became more unstable, and it showed in your behaviour, especially yours, Aunt Hecketty, but at first I knew, despite not knowing I was experiencing an illusion, that you had regrets. Hearing you vomiting was enough to convince me you had a greater plan than just a heinous need to torment me for the sheer hell of it! My Orthodox Possession wouldn't come forth without adequate provocation. You thought you could fake it, but you couldn't. My body had to be physically damaged in order for my barrier to be broken, lending its way from Primordial to my full Orthodox Possession. And you knew at some point it was likely my Primordial Possession would fight back. But you knew, between times, you could gauge my status by my Shutdowns. You were counting on a textbook reaction from me all the way, but things didn't quite go to plan, did they …?"**_

_**Constance shuffled her feet, making to turn around, but decided against it. She cleared her throat and took in another series of calming breaths. Her legs were heavy with blood and head light with its absence. She was so tired, but had far to go, and intended to see it through.**_

_**"Forgive me. I'm skipping ahead. I need to go back further, I think … Back to the whens and whys before I deal with the hows … It was on a hot day long ago, when you were just beginning to spread your wings in your new-found lives, that you came across the famed Magnus Graduatis Compendium. And your fascination with one particular enchantment was to lead to an obsession, which would eventually be your downfall at my hands … A theoretical potion, promising both youth and vitality … and the duplication of another's power. It wasn't a tonic for eternal life or invulnerability, of course, but it would promise a life so many sought: the freshness of untainted natural beauty on the outside – and magnificent power within. In a word: perfection. A real-life Fountain of Youth and then some! You determined it would be the ultimate best-seller – imagine being able to reproduce another's activated energy without harming them, giving the receiver everything they needed to be a success in a world so obsessed by what is shown outwardly. People could become accomplished witches and wizards without having to study repeatedly and still be forced to live with an echelon that could not otherwise be bettered. The ability to override their innate power and echo the level of energy from another subject would be unprecedented – and the possibilities were endless. If it worked, the gateway to the world was open for the taking. The ultimate power. And, in your then-undamaged minds, such power and standing could be used for the greater good – and the future of witchcraft. You knew it would blow apart any suchlike ideas that had come before; it is well known amongst our kind that while spells can be altered to last a certain amount of time, a potion's properties were dependent on the ingredients and the method in which they were combined, as well as any additional magic. Very little magic lasts forever … You knew the potion to give a taster of magic – to falsify activated energy – was merely a temporary replication, and both unreliable and dangerous if taken long-term or in large quantities. The Compendium's enchantment even commented upon this – it was said to be eventually lethal. And you knew it was the same for beautification spells and potions – anything in excess was dangerous and the effects very limited and temporary, anyway. Your own Witchover, Aunt Hecketty, would have only lasted a few more years had you not changed back, and it would have been unwise to repeat it until your body had had a chance to recover. But this: a one-time potion so potent it had the ability to last a lifetime through, and so extraordinarily concocted it was sure to be the rarest of the rare – and consequently almost priceless; your excitement was barely containable. You had found a way to make your mark – and show everyone what you could both achieve. But … the path to glory is a difficult one. It was never your original intention to hurt anyone. When you were saved from the elements and desolation of the world around you, you were given a vocation – to create obscure spells and make and sell potions that were frowned upon because of what they could achieve. They were not completely amoral or particularly dangerous, just effective at changing the lives of those otherwise less fortunate for the better. You didn't think you were doing any harm. Most of the things were used for selfish and trivial reasons – and you cleverly found ways around the usual repercussions, earning yourselves a unique niche in the market. Yes, you were very good at finding ways to overrule Foster's. I do fear for your electricity bill if the CEGB ever find out you've bypassed them with structured Magilec for the last twenty-odd years … I expect the Federation would have been rather eager to hire you for their corporate enchantments with your talents. But you had other plans. And you were more than gratified with your blooming careers. You trusted your customers that no one would be physically hurt, and you couldn't see the harm in helping one person gain headway over another – wasn't that how the world worked? Thus, your empire took off with a force unlike ever before; its predecessor, now sadly gone, had lovingly left you both a legacy with which to carve out your lives. And having seen the summer she died the Compendium and its holdings, you not only had her legacy, but plans to create your own. A goal to work for. And work for it you intended to do. You had grown up, and while your bitterness and anger of the past had not been fully suppressed, it was dilute enough for you to finally feel alive – and happy. But then that happiness was destroyed beyond repair …"**_

_**Constance paused, reflecting for a moment on the visible characteristics of the two women standing behind her. She didn't need to look at them to envisage every detail of her still-young aunts' abnormal features: their hard-lined, pinched sallow faces; dry creased skin and piercing eyes; their grey hair and decayed teeth, and their hunched backs and clawed fingernails.**_

_**"I don't think you ever suspected what would happen to your potent concoctions if they caught fire, did you? Such a lethal combination of mixtures … You managed to save yourselves; to save some of your so-precious stock. But the cost to you was considerable … For those amalgamated concoctions had billowed smoke so noxious it infiltrated every pore and wove itself into your minds – and that would, in turn and in time, affect your very souls. Your youth and beauty had vanished, and with it so had the essence of your morality. You were ageing with a speed that would take the likes of unprecedented properties to reverse, and growing more unstable by the year. The shock was excessive, but there was little time to grieve for your losses; you still could make your target but, in the meantime, you, Aunt Hecketty, needed a job. Your names, you had discovered, were in the clear, thanks partly to your input – Goldfish Charms a speciality of yours, aren't they? – and partly a providential chain of events you had not foreseen. The trail against you was ice-cold; your former employees, now Goldfish Charm-ed into oblivion, were incarcerated at the Federation Reformatory, and you were free. But even those who are free need to survive. Aunt Henbane was still unrecovered, weaker than you and unable to help. You did the only thing you could think of: you pulled rank and gained yourself a place at the Witch Training College. You kept your head down, reigned in your temper, and made certain that you'd be known for the right reasons, determined to ensure your position would never be contested. It must have been difficult, trying to fight off the forces unleashed inside you without you having any real idea why you felt the way you did, even though you knew your physical appearance bore scars of the past. But it was the emotional turmoil that was harder to bear. The twisted knife turning constantly inside you …"**_

_**At these words, Constance folded her arms, gaining a little strength with her speech. Her anger was fuelling her once more.**_

_**"Then, that fated year, you achieved your status as the major shareholder in the College with the one thing you knew couldn't be refused if the situation was right – money. A crass method to any mind appreciative of hard work and not shortcuts; but you knew, if things went to plan, it would leave you untouchable, and in prime position for the next step – the one involving me. But first you had to create that situation, and the way to do that was by way of another spell from the Compendium. You had always known you'd have to somehow gain the original enchantment you needed at some stage, but were unsure as to how; you intended to work that out later before it left the College the forthcoming September. I daresay by now you've figured out how to do it rather more effectively …"**_

_**Constance gave an ironic smile, and a small outward push of breath told the pair behind her she was doing so.**_

_**"But, at the time, the physical option seemed the only way, and my parents' deaths and the gaining of me had thrust you into an opportunity ripe for the taking. So you found yourselves pondering over another enchantment you had seen – Xeroxico Duplicatis. And with that you created a perfect carbon copy of the Compendium, switched it for the real one and burned the fake – along with the College itself. Everyone was devastated and in their grief assumed the fire was so powerful it could obviously destroy such a heavily protected book. How convenient for you. And by using your gained real Compendium, you used another of its enchantments to falsify my parents' will and provide the once 'lost' qualifications of your educated past for the College's records. Hence, you gained yourself a wealth of riches and bought your way into a faultless reputation. No one knew you had the Compendium, as was the idea, and therefore no one could question your position as being anything but entirely honourable. You narrowed down the curriculum to suit your ideals – you wanted to see magic taught with the highest principles; enhanced and bettered by those learning to control their power. You wanted perfection – and you got it. I didn't know until that day with Aunt Henbane how you had gained entry into the College in the first place, but when I saw that your prosperity had been gleaned from others' misfortune, yet not of your direct doing, it made me realise how much damage has been done to you. That you could take your lucky breaks of fate when all seemed lost and turn them into calculated deception … But I can see why you thought it must have been fate; such perfect serendipity could only ever have been predestined … And we three know what came next … I was yours and your status more secure than you ever dreamed possible. Then came the next phase of your plan: Intercalarius Lunaris Oppositum. Your enchantment. Your everything. An idea of genius. A theory so spectacular and virtually unachievable and yet so possible you could taste it. And the year I came to you was the year you were to create it. Nineteen seventy-two. A leap year. And a leap year with a full moon on the twenty-ninth of February … Such a common ingredient, thale cress, isn't it? Yet a very a clever plant to use; the plant with the shortest lifespan that additionally looks so alike many others it fittingly has properties of ageing and reflective reproduction when used in potions … And if picked at midnight under a leap year full moon, its properties were thought to be transformed into that of a spectrum opposite effect: decrepit ageing would become youth with the inevitable newness of natural beauty, and a hologramic copy would become a literal one … One chance in every one hundred and eighteen years to gain such an ingredient. And only one droplet of activated crushed foliage would be needed to create the same effect in hundreds of tonnes of the ordinary plant; as long as you enchanted your storage jars with the Everlast Charm to keep the potency at its optimum, you'd have enough for a lifetime and more with simply the amount you had planted around your own cottage – but you collected far more than that. Most was destroyed in the fire, but in the years elapsed since that night you had abundantly restarted your collection. All you needed was a successful night's takings and you'd be ready. Only you had something extra that you never thought you would – me. But your intentions had always been that one thing – to duplicate my power; to duplicate a Witch of Purity's power and in the process turn yourselves back into swans; even the Wicked Queen longs for beauty of face and body, even if she has the most power in the kingdom. I remember how you both would stroke my face when you thought I was asleep: was I an echo of your once-exquisite looks? Your obsession with time, Aunt Hecketty, is something I now understand. And when time is against you, you become desperate to stop the wheels turning endlessly. You thought, too, with the duplication of my power, you'd find a way to save your increasingly Ecliptic souls. I can assure you things have advanced too far for that …"**_

_**Constance switched arms and continued, picking up her stride. She was far from finished yet.**_

_**"Returning to our moment in hand, you knew that my abilities were highly developed from birth, and you decided immediately you must bind me to guarantee my conformance. But you knew it wouldn't stop me learning and developing them; just stop me demonstrating without permission. And you knew – or rather hoped – I wouldn't act upon them for fear of damaging my own soul. That weekly binding of my power for so many years was, so you thought, your saviour. But it wasn't. Though tinged with many reasons, ultimately my choice to remain pure of soul was your saviour, dear Aunts. Once I was able to understand better, I knew that, for a time, I would have to go along with things; I needed to be in a position of emotional as well as physical power; of academic standing and promising poise, and not a fugitive of the law. But as a child, I could only cope with what was happening at the time … You drilled it into me that your work – our work – was for the good of humankind. I was instructed daily to think of the benefits of power duplication. I admit that there is nothing wrong with the quest for perfection, as long as it's for one's own self-improvement and no more. Confidence and control – my mother taught me that combination was the secret to success. I believe that with my whole heart and soul, for if you have the confidence to try your best, and the control to remain on your chosen path and never give in, you will undoubtedly succeed. But, unfortunately, that mantra also works for those tainted in soul, leading to a dangerous trait in one without empathy … And yet … to be perfect, outside as well as in … That quality is indeed a barrier no one can break down … And the way to inner confidence is often by outwardly showing – and feeling – you are worthy of having confidence in … Even I cannot deny that … But you … This wasn't just about improving yourselves to be the best you could be in every sense of the word. This was about so much more … But did you not think about the consequences of others gaining power for benefits that far outweighed their morality? It isn't as though we have not seen the flip side to having more power than sense! Oh, yes … One would have thought the fact your enterprising idea was so ironically entangled with our contaminated past that it put you off even trying, regardless of your reasoning behind it … Still, it isn't surprising; not when you consider your paths to this point. We come from a long line of perfectionists, do we not? Vitalia, Christiana and Constantia. Grandmother. My mother. And all the Witches before them. Did you feel that your baby was a Witch, Aunt Henbane? Is that why it hurts so much more? The thought that she, too, could have been the epitome of perfection? Of course, had that come about, your acknowledgment of our vulnerable positions would be somewhat different, I imagine. But was that loss, whether Witch or not, the reason you were so intent on gaining the ability to replenish your physical sorrow as well as emotional? I don't suppose you or I will ever really know what the true catalyst was now … I think perhaps it was many things rolled into one; a series of pinpointed events surrounding each of you in one big circle and leading to this exact moment of time. Your actions. Your mistakes. Your past, present … and future. Your pure vanity …"**_

_**Constance sniffed, coughing noisy to clear her parched throat. "I apologise. I'm digressing again. Where were we? Ah, yes … The continuation of your 'great' plan … You suspected I was a Witch like my mother the day you took me. The photograph on my mother's bedside table showing the intensity of my Birth Glow seconds after I was born was enough to convince you. And once the Almanac dutifully performed for me, you knew for sure. You were only thirty-three that year. But I saw the damage with my own eyes, not realising then where it had come from. I was frightened by your appearances. They were so … cold. And chilling. Haunting. It must have been horrendous for you … My Primordial Possession was already highly developed, of course. My parents knew precisely what they were doing and knew how best to raise me – and my magic. You knew that – once I reached eleven – you would be up against the Equidistant Cessation Process: an occurrence thought to interrupt the flow of magic in order to protect the growing mortal body of its reigning soul, which takes effect in the central point between Primordial and Orthodox Possession – and you knew you must find a way to override it without killing me. You couldn't have tried any sooner – it was too dangerous; any attempts before the Process commenced were almost certain to result in death. For the first two years, you didn't technically lay a finger on me. You were studying; biding your time; awaiting the official start. You had your precious plant. You had your antidotes copied. You had me – now a shadow of what I once was. But how did you make me that shadow? And why? The reasons that I had pondered for so long are now engraved upon my mind … When I came to you, part of your work was already in motion: I had gone from a bright, happy and carefree child to an orphan, consumed with overwhelming trepidation and guilt. I retreated into my shell, and you endeavoured to keep me there until you were ready for me to emerge. Ultimately, there was no guarantee the replication of my power would work early – if at all. But on the assumption the potion would work, yet all your efforts failed, you would be forced to wait until I was ready. You wanted to do it on your terms, but safely; fast, but not too fast; and persuasively, but with my eventual approval – or at least understanding of why. It was as if you were so utterly petrified that I'd refuse to help you that it was easier to enforce your plans upon me without my consent. Your way was the only option … Options … You didn't have that many options, really. It was known throughout the College and your peers that you had inherited me, and it was expected I would attend there eventually. You pacified your colleagues that I was too shy and delicate for school when so young, stating I would attend the College at sixteen, having been educated at home until then. It was entirely plausible – and your actions kept me well hidden from the world. You needed me to be educated; educated so highly I could one day follow in your footsteps. Your 'perfect' niece. Your 'helpful subject'. The one who made your 'triumph for humankind' a reality. Financial reimbursement was merely a cover – you didn't want for money; it simply served as a means to keep me indebted to you. Of course, you hoped that before I even got to the College you would have already gained what you wanted and would be ready for the next step – the beginning of your lives. Our lives … Where I was controlled by you both …"**_

_**Constance sniffed again and wiped her nose with her sleeve automatically before waving the material clean again.**_

_**"You know, it's ironic, really. The Process was there to protect me in the first place, yet by actively provoking my Orthodox Possession, the weaker the Process would become. It would take a lot to break that barrier, but you knew if you pushed hard enough – and in the right way – my full power would crash through the surface into your ready and awaiting arms – and before I was fully ready to handle it. You would force my power to emerge before I had the will to control it – but at what cost? My death? You knew it was possible, but didn't really believe you'd kill me. As time went on, you thought you were doing well, but you met problems along the way: frightening warning signs that took you by surprise, and then the Counteraction Senses' emergence. You knew they could be triggered if you were not careful and were proved right. But all was not lost: you found a way around them, did you not? You realised in those first two years it would require physical provocation; your plan to keep everything as an illusionary state was not going to be effective enough. So you decided to use the book to provoke my Orthodox Possession. You didn't beat me to incite my power; the amount of bruised eyes and cheekbones I've accumulated over time have been mostly borne of fainting fits rather than unleashed fists. As a result, the book's usage usefully covered two things: the provocation of my full power, and the bonus proof of the antidotes' value – not that you ever really doubted they would work, which is why you used them. You knew that the antidotes were theoretical, yet you still took the risk; that is irony in itself, isn't it not? But we will get to that later … I've already broached upon that first occasion you used an enchantment, but I remember the subsequent ones, too. I remember them more now, in fact, because I have seen them through two extra pairs of eyes … The Asthmaticularis Potion was quite brutal, as I'm sure you realise; it worked faster than you expected, didn't it? It wasn't quite like some of the other potions but I daresay the effect on my Process was adequate, considering you nearly lost me. Did you know my father's mother died of an asthma attack when she was just twenty-three? My father was only five, but he could always remember holding her in his arms as she passed away on holiday so unexpectedly. I imagine seeing her granddaughter suffer if she had been around at the time might have caused a few things to be upset within your cosy little lives. Clearly she was no longer one of the Elite, otherwise I fear you might have been cornered by a somewhat infuriated spirit … As for that day in the kitchen … I wasn't sure what had occurred that morning at first. But I soon came to realise what it was – a warning sign. The irony is that you panicked, Aunt Henbane. You realised the barrier must have weakened enough to allow a glimmer to show through, however briefly, but you didn't know how to react: what if I realised what was happening and did something to scupper your plans? You couldn't risk losing your control, so you subdued me before anything else could happen, knowing how close you were getting. And when I finally awoke, and was met with you taking another clipping of my hair – one that would prove far more useful – I knew precisely what had occurred. That was the night you took a vital part of me, and later, for my so-terrible crime of stealing milk, a punishment was duly delivered in the most sadistic way you could think of. But I survived the night, if not the memory: being placed into a coffin – even an imaginary one – is not something one forgets in a hurry. I awoke in my own bed, assuming you had placed me back, never realising under later I never left it to begin with … But despite your efforts, that night I would remember for the good that came from it; I would remember how to take a part of you … Then, that day, in that back room, in that chair … the chair that was the only real thing in the room! That was the day my Primordial Possession finally began to fight on my behalf against the attacks upon my body. I was aware of it, but unable to stop it; it was uncontrollable and involuntary – a Counteraction Sense, activated when the Process barrier has diminished to half at a too-fast rate; a last-ditch attempt of my soul to stop the Orthodox Possession emerging and breaking me beyond repair. It was a complication you knew was almost certain to happen if you did not do things carefully enough. I wasn't fighting against you – but my power was. And you knew that if the Intensifier failed to work, you were in danger of being unable to control my power – and completely unarmed against my Orthodox Possession. You would be reliant upon your control of my personality – or what was left of it. But, fortunately for you, as we later discovered, it did work – and worked perfectly. It prevented any conscious or unconscious retaliation and drove me straight into Shutdown. As long as I didn't become immune, your plan was still on schedule. Ah, Shutdown. Your biggest help throughout all of this was the indication you had gone far enough for the time being – the Shutdown point. The point of when a complete collapse occurs to prevent further harm outwardly – or inwardly. The only option left is to sleep – and heal. Of course, when you unwittingly caused the Counteraction Senses to emerge, you knew the fine line between Shutdown and Counteraction was one you could not afford to cross, lest it go catastrophically wrong. But with the Intensifier at your disposal, you didn't worry too much. Indeed, you didn't like to think about what would happen should I be able to override it …"**_

_**Constance sighed and took a long breath, flexing her fingers and moving her neck around with her eyes closed. She straightened her back, reopened her eyes and cleared her throat.**_

_**"You must forgive me – I've had a somewhat exhausting day. It is very gruelling to one's mind and body to regurgitate one's entire past for the point of absolution of one's actions … Where did I get to? Yes … My Counteraction Senses … I suspected they were emerging, as did you. And by this point, I was tired of fighting. So very tired. I was between the Devil and the deep blue sea. It could be you – or him. I was, at that time, willing to try and take on the world rather than stay. And I knew it would be my only chance as things were. And if I failed, well … Some say where there is life there is hope, but for me back then, where there was death, there was freedom. I knew nothing would stop you from your goal – not that I fully appreciated what it was at the time – and, for a time, I would have happily given up. But I knew deep down that, if I did, my freedom would come at the cost of theirs and … as you've gathered, I couldn't do it. But escaping was a possibility, and I intended to try. Of course, I took advantage of your mutual fear of overdosing me. Aunt Henbane had warned you so many times about the dangers of potion toxification, hadn't she, Aunt Hecketty? It scared you both for the time in which the effects of your apparent overdose were plain to see; gave you cause to prepare for the task which you knew was unlikely to attain what you wanted but was better than nothing should I never wake. You were innocent this time – I had caused the reaction myself to try and escape. Ha! You even tried giving me an antidote! Yes, Aunt Henbane, I saw that, too. It was to no avail, of course, but it didn't matter. I awoke as intended and the rest followed. But I paid the price when I was discovered … That time the scars were intentional … And that … was the only time you truly unleashed your physical anger at me, Aunt Henbane. That aspect was far from an illusion. But, with the rest … I should have guessed then and there that there was little point in being chained up with a tracking device implanted within me … I don't suppose you gave it much thought at the time; just wanted to frighten me a little more. Though the 'chain' wasn't on long; it proved too awkward for you to maintain. The irony is that I had been in such a rush to leave I forgot to remove the implant before attempting to fly away. Clearly I needed lessons in escapology."**_

_**A bird suddenly tweeted from the air above and Constance smiled briefly. "Quite," she muttered softly. She shook her head and carried on.**_

_**"Then … eventually … after my accident, I was taken to your College. And you, Aunt Hecketty, under strict warning not to push me too far, allowed me to make a friend – your biggest mistake. Although, for you, it had its advantages. By allowing me to become attached to Gabriella, you also gained yourself a toy with which to bargain with me. Aunt Henbane had cited my 'accident' as being caused by an obvious melancholy, rather than the fact she had, without your knowledge, again tested the very potion you later tried upon me for a third time. That was why I nearly drowned. And at your mutual hands my status developed into pneumonia when you considered calling a doctor wasn't wise and left me almost two months lingering in a bed, knowing once I was well enough I would be taken to the College – from one cage into another. And when I arrived, you were still slightly worried – but not worried enough to stop you making sure I towed the line, of course … You had enough deterrents up your sleeve to prevent me misbehaving and to show my allies who was in charge; and all your methods were virtually guaranteed to push me hard but not quite hard enough … Well, not until the last term … But still … there was enough fear within you as to what I could do to scupper your plans and your so-important position within the College. You made sure you covered all bases, but you were not the only one who could use reverse psychology … And, of course, once I began at the College, you knew the binding of my power would have to stop – how else could I learn? It would raise too many questions and, besides, by that point, the potion barely lasted more than a day, and the administering of my usual dose had diminished in the months before I went; you knew daily doses were too big a risk. Enough times you came close to causing irreparable damage and swore to each other 'never again' – or didn't swear as the case often was. But rather like when one falls from a broom, one eventually climbs back on it …"**_

_**Constance smirked, her breath forced through her nose in still-present disbelief. **_

_**"You climbed back on your brooms so many times, but I was the one left with the bruises of falling … And as for your plans when the chrysalis occurred, I cannot deny they are – were – very clever indeed. A by-potion of the Comatosation to render me unable to prevent you replicating my Orthodox Possession the second my chrysalis came to an end with your precious potion – genius. I would be too sedated to object, bound by the Intensifier, and at rest far more deeply than the chrysalis would automatically render me. Sleep is the ultimate healer, is it not? If anything would keep me safe, it would be that. You learned the hard way that unconscious people cannot swallow, but you figured out a way around that, too. And with a locket each of my potent hair, and a hefty spritz of my remaining serum protecting you from being deflected by my changing power, you'd be in prime position to do your bidding. It's rather like a twisted fairy tale, isn't it? You knew to always leave me in peace; your menacing presence was never a good thing when I was in Shutdown – just in case. You were not one hundred per cent sure of the unknown and you knew I'd heal better without your threatening Eclipticness near. The only time you breached it was to administer your 'care' of me; otherwise you'd do it when I was sleeping naturally, but that was few and far between. Provoked unconsciousness was pretty much the only time I gained any true sleep. But with my serum preventing a recognition of who you really were, you would be free to tend to me as necessary and use your precious potion. Like I said – genius …"**_

_**Constance shook her head and undulated her shoulders, hearing her bones crack from the relieved strain of standing still for so long.**_

_**"So much information … Too much information, as they say. Yet, after all I'd seen that day … at the forefront of my mind was the acquired knowledge of your storeroom; the room beneath my room that had no visible means of entry. Only I saw that, too. Always the old romantic weren't you, Aunt Henbane? A lover of the great classics … A mere puff of air preceded by the gentle touch of a hand was all it would take to unlock the world you had both accumulated, and soon your possessions really would be … gone with the wind …"**_

_**Constance suddenly cried out with a half laugh and half scream, lurching forwards then back on the spot.**_

_**"YOU TURNED A LOVINGLY-RESTORED AND UTTERLY ENCHANTING COTTAGE INTO THE CAUSE OF MY NIGHTMARES AND FORCED ME TO EXIST IN A FILTHY, RUN-DOWN SHACK! YOU MADE ME ENDURE TORTURES INFLICTED WITH INSANITY-DRIVEN CALCULATION AND HAMMERED YOUR TEACHINGS INTO ME DAY IN DAY OUT, ALL IN THE HOPE IT WOULD CAUSE ME ENDLESS MISERY AND BREAK MY SPIRIT IRREPARABLY SO THAT I'D BECOME YOUR PUPPET ON A STRING! WELL, CONGRATULATIONS – IT WORKED!" **_

_**Constance yelled her words with such ferocity the nearby birds flew from the trees, bending and clutching her waist to steady her nerves. Panting, she lowered her voice after taking in a steady flow of air and closed her eyes, listening to the world around her.**_

_**"It worked so very well for so long … But … thanks to you, Aunt Henbane, I was able to see what had been shielded from penetration, and that was when I found something inside me I hadn't had for so long … I found hope. Just like you both did … And hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can give life as well as take it … And that hope was to diminish over the years to the point that I felt dead inside … But even when I thought it had gone, it hadn't. Faded, but still there, my hope carried me through the days, weeks, months … and years …"**_

_**Constance paused, taking a deep breath before she could continue. Her chest was tight, uncomfortable, and she could feel the choking croak of her voice in her throat. She felt desperate for a drink, but knew she would not tolerate one drop of liquid in her mouth until it was empty of all it held.**_

_**"It is against everything I stand for to probe further than I am invited; I was not invited that day … You had both blocked me for as long as I could remember, always of the 'just in case' brigade … Though you considered any such intrusion from me would not be forthcoming; such methods were unacceptable to a Witch's ethics. However … something else took over … And in the journey to break through into what was left of your lightness, Aunt Henbane, your information paved the way and I couldn't prevent it – and I felt justified to use it. And the same goes for you, Aunt Hecketty: my actions on the day you finally snapped beyond all logic I tried so hard to make you see reason – and remember the part of you that was still human. I didn't succeed with either of you, but I knew my actions would be vindicated on a deeper level, even if I found it hard to live with them thereafter. And they are hard to live with. Because I tried. I tried so much … And … it frightens me that there's a part of me that can understand why you've acted this way … How the white-hot anger could consume you so much you couldn't hope to control it when you already felt so abandoned by those you trusted … Because it's how I feel now … I felt what was inside you both … Deep down in that hollowed pit of your souls … But there was still hope there … You both started to let me in … You both lifted me into your arms and caressed my face. And you both held me close in your grasp as if you knew that the moment you released me it would be the final step towards closing that door forever. I could feel your mutual remorse … Your confusion. Your torment and pain. And your terror … Fear so choking and torturous it was suffocating. And I couldn't stop myself wanting to help … Wanting to help that last flickering flame turn back into an inferno before it was too late. And I started to … If it had just been a little longer … But the first time, Aunt Hecketty came … And you pulled back, Aunt Henbane. You heard your twin beckoning and you broke the connection like a finger snap. You took your arms away and left me – left my mind, so desperate were you to explain and cover your tracks. And without that support my body just … fell … Lapsed into darkness before I could stop it … And when I eventually stirred, safe in my bed, and saw you both hovering in the doorway, keeping a necessary distance, it was like nothing had ever happened. Business as usual. Of course, Aunt Hecketty was not told the truth, and we all know what came from the neglect of that detail … But I have to thank you, Aunt Henbane, for your actions that day led to what saved me – even before my true saviour came … And with you, Aunt Hecketty … That was different. Different because our connection breakage was my fault … Your efforts upon me had taken me beyond my capacity and I couldn't fight the inevitable any longer. Maybe if I had managed just a few more seconds …"**_

_**Constance stopped and became abruptly mute. She stayed like that for a minute, standing and staring into the oncoming evening.**_

_**"There are so many maybes … Were so many maybes … And what happened … happened. I'd seen what you had done. Why you had done it. But the past was the past. And I felt I could have helped changed the future … Changed your futures … I got in so far; forced my way inside and nestled there. And … I thought I'd hadn't managed it, at first. But I knew upon that brief waking that I had. I could see those same eyes looking at me; feel those arms around my body like before. But it didn't last. I tried to continue. To touch your soul as I'd tried to touch hers … But the physical effects were too extreme … I faltered as I began to shut down and the connection broke. It might have been too late, anyway – more time had passed, more damage had been done … But I tried. For my family – past, present and future – I tried … even though the cost could have been catastrophic. For the second time, my dreams had seemed to come forth – you still had flickering life within, as had your twin. I had hoped so much that one day you'd both find that single lit flame once more; that you'd seek it out and ask for my help. Because, despite all of this, I'd have given it. I should have hated you as passionately as you hated me, and the anger was burning so bright I could have happily struck you both then and now … And yet I didn't … And I couldn't … To hurt you would have made me no better than you. Worse even, because of my heritage. My power … I could have obliterated you both in a second, and with just reason – reason enough to avoid Eclipticness in anyone's moralistic mind if not in reality … But the blackening of my soul was too big a price to pay … I couldn't lay a finger on either of you because it was against everything I stood for … Any actions in that vein wouldn't have been out of compassion … Nor love or decency to help another soul … No. They would have been out of revenge … And even justifiable revenge has its price when the manner in which it is executed is beyond the capacity of the perpetrator …"**_

_**Constance became silent again as the next words entered her head, but she intended for the pair to hear them: You wouldn't stand a chance if I really let go …**_

_**"But … you ground me down and repeatedly crushed my very spirit into a complex mangled knot, smaller and smaller, tighter and tighter, ravaging my emotions and vilifying my thoughts and memories so that I'd become a programmed shell of robotic subservience, too terrified for myself and my soul to speak out or attempt to hinder your chosen path for me … Your chosen … destiny … For it was to be your destiny, too. Your fate … You and your precious potion … But time moves on. Circumstances alter. And people grow and change as they respond to the ever-changing world around them. And with that change comes not just the knowledge of what's right or wrong, but the choice between them. You made your choices. No one made them for you. It's true that you didn't foresee many of your unfortunate endeavours and losses. It's true that you couldn't have known then what you know now – few can, which is why history inevitably repeats itself, for those who do not heed the past suffer the consequences in the future … But you still had the choice – you both did. I was weakening, barely conscious, fading in your arms, but that olive branch was yet available to you – extended just once. A final chance … but that was then …"**_

_**Constance's last four words were said with clear determination, her next comment pending with the same tone of resolution. **_

_**"My soul shall remain pure, rest assured, but your punishment I know shall pain you more than any torture I could have inflicted upon either of you. My future will be one still of a caged variety, but, with the greatest irony, I have set you free …"**_

_**Constance waited a few moments to see if any reactions were forthcoming; her back was still turned, but she had come to recognise the subtle emanations readily emerging from the minds of the two behind her.**_

_**"Oh, yes. I have. I was so unsure at first. Gabriella knew I would be unsure until the moment I did it … and even afterwards. I thought somehow it might be placing you in danger … But then, without me, and without the Almanac, and without such easy access to your calling, you are henceforth removed from his radar … He will break down the barriers in his path and find me eventually … But when he does, I'll be ready …"**_

_**Constance snorted, bearing her teeth in mordant laughter.**_

_**"I don't think I've even known such a contradiction in terms. So assured were you of your damn potion you collected virtually every plant in existence that moon-filled night, prepared to produce as much as you could and seal your golden fate. Yet your belief in Exposation? Oh, you thought THAT was impossible! The theory that the Halloween full moon's thinned veil could give way to his Ecliptic soul and result in unleashing him once more into the world? No, it couldn't possibly happen, could it?!"**_

_**Constance sighed with deliberate intent.**_

_**"You foolish, foolish women … Do you seriously think he's not already out there?! That he hasn't already taken some poor, unfortunate soul into his possession?! That he hasn't already KILLED?! I tried repeatedly to tell you it was him! In the hotel … before we came here … I should have felt safer … Yet I was terrified for ALL of us! Terrified of his power … I tried and tried to make you understand and all you did was sedate me! HE WAS MY PARENTS' MURDERER AND YOU IGNORED IT! Did you REALLY think it was just a random attack?! Or your parents' deaths? When you read about it in the national newspaper, did you not even sense something was more amiss than a supposed gas leak?! You must have done for it to remain in your memory so long … But you didn't – you don't want to believe it, do you ...? You were trusting enough of the Almanac and Christiana's fail-safes, but to believe he's still trapped and never to emerge – certainly in your lifetime – are you really THAT naïve? Constantia saved Christiana's life. Anastasia's life. YOUR MOTHER! Constantia threw herself before her pregnant sister and gave her life for us all to live and THIS is your repayment! Oh, I know you never really believed it would happen. And with only nine opportunities of a Halloween full moon over two hundred years – and some already past – you were pretty certain it wouldn't happen to affect you while you were alive, and after that – who cared? You wouldn't be here to see what they might choose to do should we not succeed. And no matter what the outcome, you wouldn't be affected: you were not Witches and would never again be in a position of procreation! No … For the rest of your lives you would have been quite content with your little prized canary …"**_

_**Constance gritted her teeth together, feeling her power build as the words began to slip faster and faster from her tongue.**_

_**"We could have looked for him and fought him together – as a family! But, no, that wouldn't have fit in with your plan … Ahhh, we are back to the great plan … And, you know, I could even understand where you were coming from. I could understand why it was so important to you – why your precious potion was the answer to your dreams. Why you felt it necessary to prove yourselves to the world. Why you tried so hard to accomplish your task because the thought of failure would have torn you apart and left you for dead! But if you had acted differently; explained why you wanted to do what you did, could I have conceived the idea? Even helped you? After all, it wouldn't have been hurting anyone provided it had been done carefully and in a controlled way so that virtue and purity of power was always maintained. It could have even led to more of us; a union of our long-lost family joining together, united in power for the greater good against the atrocities of humankind; against the creature out to govern all of it. Do you really think Father would have done what he did if he had thought there was any chance of it affecting anyone, regardless of their crimes?! You paid for your deeds – you are still paying for them and you will continue to do so for the rest of your days! If you had been honest; told me your story; told me how my father had been involved, don't you think I would have tried to help you?! You never asked me. You presumed. You ordered. But you never asked. And maybe, if you had explained, I could have seen your reasons. Understood why. Tried to set the record straight for the sake of our remaining family … BECAUSE HAVEN'T WE ALL FUCKING SUFFERED ENOUGH?!"**_

_**Constance abruptly stopped, seizing a strangled breath and gagging as she choked back her vociferous speech. She was trembling, vitriolic rage engulfing her body, awash with emotionally charged heat pulsating from her chest and obscuring her gaze. She wanted to vomit; to cry out in ire until forced by exhaustion to cease; to strike them both as they had done unto her for years; to shut her eyes and annihilate them with every fibre of her being until there was nothing left but innocuous ash blowing in the wind.**_

_**"My family – your family – are trapped in the hell that is Damnation until he is destroyed for good! They are not happily floating around as part of the Elite or even Fortuitous. Even being Lost would be better than their present fate! They are helpless and condemned to walk amongst the living and the dead without contact with any of them – even those of their own kind! DON'T YOU CARE?! HOW CAN YOU EVEN BE COMFORTABLE IN THAT BUILDING, KNOWING WHAT HAPPENED THERE?! KNOWING OF THE ABOMINATIONS HE COMMITTED! KNOWING WHAT HE DID – WHAT HE STILL WANTS TO DO! HOW COULD YOU HAVE TOLERATED USING THE BOOK HE CREATED FROM HIS OWN MALEVOLENT FLESH?! Even THE mirror couldn't contain his Eclipticness! Didn't that fact alone tell you how morally reprehensible he was? DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK HE HASN'T INVOKED EXPOSATION?! ARE YOU SO ARROGANT YOU THINK IT DOESN'T AFFECT YOU? IT AFFECTS EVERYONE! IT AFFECTS EVERY SINGLE SOUL IN EXISTENCE! Do you really think we will remain protected forever with Christiana's legacy? Or with Grandmother's? That he won't somehow find us SOMEWHERE DOWN THE LINE?! Find his book and take what's left of us?! He didn't want just eternal life – he wanted eternal existence – any level – any place! WITH OUR POWER HE WOULD PRESIDE EVEN OVER THE SENTINELS IF THEY ALLOWED IT! CAN YOU HONESTLY EXPECT THEY WILL DO NOTHING TO STOP HIM IF WE CAN'T?!"**_

_**Constance spat out the last sentence of her words, having been so desperate to speak them for so long. But now she had said it all, she hadn't felt the release she had expected; she still couldn't fully accept it herself. Believing something is real, and truly knowing it is are two very difference things. True acceptance would take her almost two more decades. **_

_**Constance closed her eyes and her voice closed down with it. She wiped her face with her hands and breathed in deeply, feeling the setting sun on her face, trying to calm herself. But it was unsuccessful, and did not prevent what happened next. Her fingertips suddenly sparked with her inner intentions, and both watching women's eyes betrayed their defiant stance as the terrifying recognition of their former captive's patent power became fully apparent. Constance rose into the air and spun around to face them. Her eyes were open, narrowed towards theirs, and the black dress she was wearing once again began to illuminate as the dyes in the fabric began to change. She held their gaze for a few seconds as the sparks dispersed safely into the air before dropping to the ground, her dress flashing several times with glowing whiteness before dulling to black once more. Constance, now on her knees and facing her aunts for the first time since she unleashed her diatribe against them, drew a slow breath and spoke in a strained whisper, clenching her fists and causing her hands to bleed as she fought to release her words without the accompaniment of her dangerously primed senses.**_

_**"My mother's party trick … Everything she wore turned white automatically. She spent most of her time casting spells on her garments to keep them as they should be … Only when my soul is heightened does it occur. It never happens any other time … I'm too damaged now … Tell me – did it bother you when they died? Did it bother you that your own sister's body had been slaughtered with the most lethal weapon known to existence? How she was left lying like a bloodied marble statue? Did it disturb you that the child growing inside her didn't even have a chance to live?"**_

_**Constance didn't even bother to wipe her tears this time. She allowed them to flow, still kneeling on the soft ground beneath her.**_

_**"We knew she was one for sure … Another Witch. We'd only known a few days, though Mother had known before that. Felt her spirit within her own the second she was conceived …" **_

_**Constance's eyes were unfocused as she continued to speak quietly. "I wonder where she will end up when another attempt is made to release her here …?" She blinked a few times as she snapped back to the present, her voice regaining strength. **_

_**"When your parents died, did you ever fleetingly think it was him? Or did you arrogantly assume it was some sort of karma-driven force; some sort of payback for the wrongs you claim were done unto you? What made you feel worse: their deaths? – or the loss of your inheritance? When you think of all your plans … Your brilliance … So wasted … You could have done so much … WE could have done so much … But for others, not ourselves … Were you really wanting to make your mark for others' benefit …? Or yours?"**_

_**Constance blinked a few times and gave a small smile.**_

_**"But then, karma is a wonderful thing, as you never did get everything you wanted, even from me, did you? You never found my mother's mirror, much to your intense confusion, as wherever the mirror went, so did the book. You knew that. And you couldn't see what was right under your nose …" Constance closed her eyes, picturing her beloved hairbrush, and the locket-sized compartment in the back that housed her precious mirror. "Ironically, neither could I, as we discovered. Still, I'll certainly never forget the Chameleon Spell now, will I …?"**_

_**Constance smiled again, wider this time, looking upwards. "I presume you realised it was that I cast upon the Almanac? That – and your favourite enchantment for object replication. Pity it couldn't be used in humans, isn't it? It would have made things so much easier … Yes … The Almanac's journey from me to you to me again has been an interesting one … I suspected for a long time the Almanac was kept at the College; I suppose you found it mocking towards his memory, did you not? Whatever your reason, Gabriella went looking and, in her typical way of knowing things others do not, she found what she was looking for, and from that came a chain of events, leading to a terrible price for me – but one of ultimate gain. But you must have suspected I at least knew about the Chameleon Spell after that night, Aunt Hecketty, if not at the time then later. How else could Gabriella and I have recognised what was behind those 'bricks' unless we were able to see through what was really there? But before all of this, of course, you were quite assured that you knew what you were doing regarding my future at the College. You pretty much detested Gabriella from the start – that much was obvious. But in the end you hated her with the core of your being. Jealous, were you? Your initial motive for pairing us together was borne from a not-entirely-truthful warning from your sister about my 'fragile' mental state and emotional well-being. But, before long, you saw another avenue of benefit than just a way of developing my social skills and allowing me to interact with someone. Our friendship had developed so much that you came to realise her close presence had turned me into your perfect marionette, too scared to make a move lest you harm her. And it worked. I was under full control, was I not? You kept me on edge with the constant threat of her removal and reference to my mental status, but I knew your fear of a rebellious retaliation from me was enough to stamp out any ideas you had of splitting us up. We couldn't have you accused of nepotism, now, could we? I had to be seen to be the very best as well as being the very best, for how else could you then employ me as your junior, enabling you to continue your grand plan and keep me under your thumb for your prestigious institution? And then, when we had both qualified, you were sufficiently satisfied when the news came of her job offer from abroad. You thought that, eventually, any lingering contact would fizzle out. After all, by then I would be in prime position for the next step of the plan – and unable to move an inch now I was in your clutches as your employee, and well under the scrutiny of the Federation as your up-and-coming protégée. And you thought I had accepted my fate. Well, I hadn't. Perhaps, without Gabriella, it would be a different story. But it isn't. Gabriella helped me through my degree more than you could possibly imagine …"**_

_**Constance blinked, staring at both, a curl of knowing satisfaction on her lips.**_

_**"And so did Dawn … Dawn knew what I was … She saw me heal a small cut on Gabriella's leg when she fell off her broom in the first year … She guessed for sure when she realised I never attempted to heal myself from my rather more serious injuries, knowing it was because I couldn't take the risk of what might happen. And you knew she knew, didn't you? And you wanted rid of her in case she tried to help me get away. You knew she'd come to the rescue with the spider and you were banking on her accusing you in front of the other staff, giving you the perfect chance to sack her for insubordination. Only it didn't quite go to plan, did it? And the reason it didn't go to plan was because I had discovered what you were intending and made sure Gabriella was no longer a candidate for your scheme. You had already forewarned me earlier that week to remember my place, and the 'positions' of my friends. I told Gabriella the spider had been meant for one of us … The truth was I knew you had meant it for her. And I was willing to take that risk … Though, as it turned out, so were you, Aunt Hecketty. I saw your figure that night. Watched the anger bleed into your face as you realised Gabriella wasn't sleeping naturally. You knew then she was no longer suitable as your guinea pig – not unless you wanted to kill her. So I watched as you walked over to my bed. Watched as you stared deep into my eyes and let that spider bite me. I knew, at that moment, you were so full of ire that no logic could have possibly entered your head about the potential consequences. It wouldn't be the last time you were overcome with such fury … You whispered to me that I was 'too chivalrous' for my own good and snuffed out your candle, leaving me trapped in my body, in the dark. But I was prepared. I meditated myself through that entire night. Kept myself calm to prevent a disastrous turn of events. I knew Dawn and Gabriella would save me – and you knew it, too. But still … the risk you took was greater than mine … As it happened, my body didn't enter Shutdown or expel Counteraction because it was technically unharmed – just paralysed. Nor did my Orthodox Possession threaten emergence. Whether it was luck or down to me, I don't know. But I got through it. And afterwards, as predicted, Dawn did accuse you, and threatened to expose you, but she cleverly made sure there was no one to bear witness by sending Gloria out of the room, despite you asking her to remain present. You couldn't sack Gloria for refusing to stay put and Dawn knew that. Not that Gloria would have ever sworn faith to you. She hated you. Almost everyone hated you, even those whom you thought were loyal subjects to your kingdom. But it didn't matter – your threat to not just fire her but end any future career she took to heart and, thus, you knew she, like Gabriella and myself, were under your thumb. Or so you thought. I'm quite certain you realised it was Dawn and Gabriella who helped me override that damn device of yours. It was a very clever device, I will grant you that. Simplistic, really: the main tracking machine, a sister device that you could take out with you that would receive an alert page to say I'd left the vicinity, and a tiny implant, armed ready to release a small trickle of Intensifier with a charge of Magilec the second I tried to dematerialise anywhere. Not a fatal combination, of course – I was only eleven when you implanted it, after all. But enough to guarantee electrocuting me into Shutdown and stopping me in my tracks. But tut-tut at using the Intensifier to prevent me making a habit of trying to override it; it could have so easily backfired … And I did go very reluctantly that night, you know. I couldn't help but be aware of the risk I was putting them under by allowing them to help me. But my adrenaline lasted longer than I thought it would, and for the first time it gave me an indication I might be able to override it long enough to escape … Though I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure about so many things … But Gabriella was. You should know, by the way, that Gabriella will have destroyed the machine, Aunt Hecketty. And I'm afraid the contents of your handbag are beyond help. I do hope the cost to replace your office windows isn't too extortionate – she was quite adamant the machine should be blown into at least a million pieces … A bit like you destroyed the Almanac … Yes, the night with the Almanac … Hard to forget being so savagely beaten. I find the memory is as potent as any of my nightmares … I had never seen you so angry … Once again no logic was in your mind at that moment. To use the Intensifier twice over was madness. And the worst part of that night? What you did to my poor, defenceless bat. Were you so incensed that I'd stolen her food from the laboratory stocks? Or was it purely out of spite. She was a friend to me like Gabriella and you killed her viciously. But, then, it's not the first time you've done such a heinous act on an innocent creature … But, despite that, the price I paid for my gain was worth it …"**_

_**Constance swallowed a couple of times. She suspected she didn't really need to deliver her forthcoming explanation by this stage, but she was going to give it, nonetheless. And she was going to do it on her feet. She stood up carefully and steadied herself, lifting her chin up defiantly.**_

_**"I don't suppose you have ever read Dickens, have you, Aunt Hecketty?" Constance watched as rage flashed across Hecketty's eyes as Henbane's glassy gaze looked distinctly perplexed. "No … I thought not … My father used to read his works to me, teaching me the value of what one has to be thankful for in life … And how one should take great care of one's books … Imagine letting a first edition become so battered …" Constance smiled dryly. "A simple Switching Spell was all I really needed in order to obtain the real book, and all I had to do was make you believe I'd used only the Xeroxico Duplicatis enchantment on the Almanac …"**_

_**Hecketty's gaze was that of known defeat, while Henbane continued to watch and listen, her own confusion growing into deepening anger as she guessed what was coming.**_

_**"Yes, that's right. I made two copies – one with the Xeroxico Duplicatis … And one with the Chameleon Spell … For you see, dear Aunts, the two spells alone were not really suitable: the Xeroxico Duplicatis will create a perfect carbon copy, yes, but it will not copy the possessions held deep within the book – only what can be seen. And being such a powerful enchantment, I couldn't risk trying to combine it with another lest I triggered Foster's … And the Chameleon Spell can be so fickle against intentionally destructive magic … No, I couldn't risk that on its own, either … But luckily, I didn't have to, because when you use a lesser enchantment, it can be combined so wonderfully with others for greater effect – just as long as you know what you are doing, of course … We all know the tale of Doctor Foster, but few realise the Foster's Effect is only triggered when the level of energy is recklessly administered; it isn't just down to the magic, but the person governing it. You knew your use of the Almanac, like all your enchantments, was only at risk if you were careless. He, like you, also had ways of preventing an overload occurring, but that book has so much magic within it; there was always the chance at some point it would backfire on you … Remember that potion you kept trying on me? The MIXED potion? The one that wasn't supposed to be mixed and so, unsurprisingly, neither of you could get it to work, nor the mixed antidote? That is commonly referred to as the Foster's Effect! He was careful. Christiana even more so. But you were so hell bent on getting it right and proving you could once again avoid Foster's … However, despite complications I will never recover from, the loss was more yours than mine … Apart from the aforementioned revelations, it led me to thinking about how I could pull the wool over your eyes by avoiding Foster's myself … And I found a way … A fitting way … A way to incorporate what I had learned from you, dear Aunts … And so, by guaranteeing the right Almanac would reveal my conjured pages at the right moment, it would be enough to make you think you were obtaining, switching and destroying a fake copy … Which you technically were … But you were also swapping another fake copy for the real one …"**_

_**Constance smirked, satisfied at the clear confusion in Hecketty's glare. **_

_**"A little lost, are we? I shall elucidate. When you removed what you thought was the real Almanac from my wall – which, incidentally, I would have thought you of all people would have suspected the glaring deficiencies of such a practice to begin with – and brought it forth, what you actually removed was the first fake Almanac which, amongst other enchantments, had the Chameleon Spell upon it; and it was predetermined to emit the tell-tale red glow of my great-grandmother's legacy once in my hands … Then, when you exchanged it for the real one, which was still safely inside the glass and you thought it a copy, you were, in fact, about to destroy the second fake Almanac, which was borne from the Xeroxico Duplicatis enchantment …"**_

_**Constance gave a little laugh, and the relish in it was clear to hear.**_

_**"You see, I couldn't risk using the Chameleon Spell for both, just in case you noticed during elimination the revealing shimmer of falsity due to the Magilec overload. No, the two books for that moment of impact had to be twinned so effectively, you'd never be able to tell the difference as they switched places … Thus, when you detonated the book you were sure was a fake, you actually, through my pre-cast Switching Spell, sent it into hiding and it was replaced in less than a millisecond with my second fake, which was then destroyed, leaving you with the first fake book you removed from my wall … I daresay your fury when you awoke heightened your senses and allowed you to see straight through. You should have remembered that when a Witch hides something, only another Witch can remove it. You may have recalled the words I used as a child to attain the Almanac from my mother's wall, but you clearly forgot the fact it only emerged because I was the one speaking them … So now you've seen what really was inside your precious lair … So many people see only what they want to see, or expect to … I know that more than most. If only you had focused a little more on those pages that were 'appearing' before me … Still, life isn't always fair, is it? I believe you are now both, indeed, suffering Hard Times …"**_

_**Constance folded her arms with satisfaction.**_

_**"It's true you taught me some things. Watching you taught me precisely how to use my teleportation skills for the ultimate effect without you even realising it. And my serum has served you very well, hasn't it? Given you an ability to master a skill I was born with. My, how you've enjoyed the privilege of whizzing around without having to go through the process of learning it. But did you know that, once it wears off completely, if you cannot remember how to do it, you won't be able to? I do hope you have learned the manual methods, dear Aunts. Materialisation replication is, after all, about all you managed to gain from me …"**_

_**Constance smiled, a hint of derision playing on her lips. **_

_**"I think, if your plan had succeeded, you would indeed have been listened to by the highest authorities in the land. Eventually even the world … Your running of the College is immune to critique – you may not be popular in some circles because of how you've gained your position, but your flawless repute precedes you and there is no doubt your methods attain results unlike any other's. And the subjects you offer – all about achieving more in magic, either personally or teaching it – are much to be admired. But you are not happy with that. You want so much more. Wanted so much more. Wanted me – what I was destined to have. Oh, I know you promised one day you'd let me fly free, but I don't think you could have done – not in the end. I don't think deep down you ever wanted to let me go, despite your promise. Not for fear of retaliation of the verbal kind if not the physical, but because I had been the point to your existence for so long – how would you cope without me? I know you kept me in potions so that I could be trained in your footsteps. But this wasn't just purely academic. It was about stretching my power as far as it would go. It was about making certain that every fibre of my being – every molecule of energy – was trained and ready. But to what purpose?"**_

_**Constance cleared her throat, her eyes flashing with another surge of passion. She could only hope to control it, for her words were going to be said, come what may.**_

_**"The same purpose I have known about since I was sixteen years old … Not just to be your 'willing' assistant. Your shining star. Your special niece whom you had spent your lives 'nurturing' … No … For your purposes my part in your lives would be nothing less than the child of your dreams, governed by your will and so twisted in emotion that I would hence become the one you both feel you lost. It would be the ultimate insult to my parents – to have a miniaturised version of you representing what would become the most powerful teaching establishment in the country – perhaps even the world – and one whose very essence of being was at the forefront of the biggest magical advancement ever known! THE CHILD MY MOTHER 'TOOK' FROM YOU RETURNED TO HER 'RIGHTFUL' PLACE – AND ALL YOURS! PERFECT IN EVERY WAY AND A DEVOTEE TO YOU AND YOUR CAUSE! YOUR HATED NIECE NO MORE BUT TREASURED LOYAL DEPENDANT! A WITCH OF PURITY WHOSE POWER YOU COULD REPLICATE AND USE TO FUEL YOUR OWN LEGENDARY STATUS WORLD WIDE AS THE GREATEST WITCHES IN ALL OF HUMANKIND'S HISTORY!"**_

_**Constance screeched the last sentence at the top of her voice, stepping forwards and staring straight into the eyes of the wounded sibling before her: the one whose actions – and those of her twin – echoed the still-excruciating pain for a crime which was no crime to any mind but theirs. Constance closed her eyes and wiped her skin with her shaking hands, swallowing and clearing her choked throat.**_

_**"I … can't pretend to know your pain for the loss of your child, Aunt Henbane. Nor yours for the anguish that has inflicted your sister, Aunt Hecketty. You were both wronged as young women, but that did not give you the right to inflict what you have upon me. I understand pain so unbearable you think you could die from it, and instead life becomes that of the walking dead. My pain will never completely lift while ever I live, but I CAN live through it, even if I cannot feel fully alive. Yours has already sealed your fate."**_

_**Constance cleared her throat a couple of times more. She was nearing the end of their time together, and a part of her wanted it to last a little longer. Her old life, no matter how dire, was still all she knew. An uncertain future is always far more terrifying than that of a horrendous yet assured past.**_

_**"Without Gabriella, I wouldn't have realised what I was worth; what I could do; who I could become. I began to think I would never escape. I realised I could have technically just left and gone far enough away that you'd be unlikely to find me, but what else could I do but teach? You convinced me that no one else could possibly want me; that I was only perfect academically because of your doing and not my own; that you would see to it if I attempted anything my name would be marred so viciously I wouldn't be accepted anywhere. And what of my own legacy? My mission on the earthly plane? Could I just abandon it? I was lost – and my friend helped me to find myself. She helped me complete my plan. I owe everything to her, and I had her because of you. Of all the mistakes you have made, allowing me a friend was your biggest. I took the ultimate risk for Gabriella without even thinking about it. Had you known what occurred when I saved her that night, I'm sure you would have decided another attempt was worth trying before I went into my chrysalis naturally. But you forget that a Witch chooses whether to override her restrictions; I chose to save Gabriella. The same way I chose to try and save you both. I know you both heard those six words I spoke to you … But now you are both beyond my help."**_

_**The twins were staring ahead once again. Constance knew why. If they didn't focus upon her, it was not real. But she would bring them back into focus again before long.**_

**_"Did you ever seriously think I'd forget the past with the promise of the future? That I'd be so frightened of losing the only connections of family I had that I would rather endure than flee to a life of ruin and destitution? I was already destitute. When you took me, you took virtually everything from me and tried to remove all elements of my family. My past. My sense of being. But you couldn't take my soul. You may have thought you had me in your control. You may have thought that I wouldn't fight. You didn't see what I saw; feel what I felt in the times I couldn't move; couldn't think; knew nothing but pain. I saw into your souls – souls that once had glimmers of hope. But now they are empty; empty, hollow and as lifeless as the shells surrounding them. Your crimes have polluted my life with a miasma through which I shall never take a clear breath for as long as I am alive … But your actions also created within me the strength to reach this moment … Compliance and deliverance was your goal. But defiance and defeat is the result …"  
_**

_**Constance sniffed, stepping back and opening her arms and visibly stretching with a renewed sense of being. She breathed the air deeply, refreshingly, running her hands over her hair and closing her eyes, as if alone on a mountain top with nothing around her but the ground and the sky. For a few minutes she held herself around the upper arms, listening to the oncoming night. Upon opening her eyes, glassy with wetness, she walked a little closer to her aunts once again.**_

_**"It's taken me from whence I arrived until now to truly analyse my memories … And yours … Because I wanted to. I needed to. I needed to try and understand how you could have done what you have done and live with it. I needed to convince myself that my actions of retaliation were morally and ethically right to invoke after the fact, for I was going to invoke them for my own sanity before I did anything else … You ground me down so low it seemed the only way forwards was the path you had chosen for me. Well, you were right – it was; and because I stayed the path, I'm now a qualified potions teacher with the best academic results in the entire College … and I'm also free. Thanks to fate. Thanks to Gabriella. Thanks to you … and thanks to me. I. Am. Free. I know he cannot touch me until I'm in my Orthodox Possession. I will be safe until then for certain. Thereafter, he won't make a move until I am ripe – and he has to find me first … And he won't find me easily where I'm going, even if he knows I exist … And neither will you … The spell I am shortly going to cast upon you will turn me into a ghost of your past, and one only you will know about … But first I have a parting gift … It will make life easier if you cannot see the lingering cause of your sorrow …"**_

_**Constance walked away from them up the pathway until she was standing in the midst of the thick crop of thale cress. She leaned over and picked up a single piece, tugging it gently from the stalk. "Ever heard the expression, 'A ring of fire', Aunts?" Constance let the cress lay in the palm of her hand and extended her arm outwards until it was stretched as far as it would go. The aunts watched as the cress expanded in size, swirling in a ball of green until it took the shape of a small scaly creature, and from its mouth was an orange hue of wavering light. "Draconius Infantinum Infernos. Otherwise known as the miniature fire-breathing dragon spell – a favourite of wizards, always seeing whose flame-thrower was the biggest. It was most useful to surround castles under siege because the flames could alight anything, even water … Let's see how he does, shall we?" Constance lowered her hand to the ground and let the tiny green dragon step down. It squeaked in a breath and in return came a whoosh of flames which ignited the plant life around it in a single roar, leaving smoking dry land in its place. Constance smiled, then stood, turned and walked away as the continuation of dancing flames lit the air behind her. By the time she was back at the tree, a circle of flames had surrounded the cottage, burning every piece of plant life in their path until there was nothing left for the flames to eat, upon which they extinguished along the with dragon. The cottage was now sitting on crisp, arid land, and the smoky ivy of the cottage was wilted and limp in mourning.**_

_**"When I leave, your anger will overwhelm you. I can feel it surging through your veins, furious for revenge – and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I warned you the time would come when it would be too late. Yet I cannot blame you entirely: one cannot be blamed for actions not of one's original intention. But they can be blamed for not trying to rectify their deeds. I cannot do anything for you any more, either by force – or choice. And a part of me can also not be saved. I'm going to a new life, leaving the past behind, but the day I came to you a part of me died – and I shall never get it back while ever I breathe. That is down purely to you, and your deeds. But at least when the breath of my body is gone forever I shall continue onwards. You shall not. The blame was not always yours to carry, but the blackness that has enveloped you has been shielded from light by your own hand, and that action has forever sealed your fate, whether you believe it or not. You've had your chances. And you will not ever take another thing from me. You took my past. My innocence. My childhood. Now, I have taken your future. You have nothing left … Nothing … but your wretched misery."**_

_**Constance leaned forwards and felt for the black oval locket she knew her Aunt Henbane always wore beneath her clothing. "Should I deprive you of this, too, I wonder?" She watched as it glistened in the setting sunshine. "I know you can still feel pain – and that you are capable of love. You wouldn't have done everything you have to gain yourselves legitimacy and standing unless you were capable of empathy and desire. I know what this holds, and I know how much it will hurt you – both of you – if I destroy it. Which is why I'm not going to. You will suffer enough." **_

_**Constance raised her hand slowly – so slowly, it was as if she was gearing up to swipe it around the faces staring at her. But she didn't. She placed her right hand against Hecketty's left cheek, and lifted her left hand against Henbane's right, leaning further into the small gap between their heads, and muttered her parting words to them beneath her breath. **_

_**"The apology should not be mine, but I am sorry. Sorry for you. Because there's a part of me that wishes I could set you free. If I let what you've put me through reach the surface, it will consume and destroy me. So I have to try and let it go – and you with it. I know you can feel the love from my touch, and if I can do nothing else, I can allow you to feel love one last time."**_

_**Finishing, she gently, almost tenderly, turned first to Henbane and kissed her cheek, and then performed the same on her other aunt, drawing away like a breeze; so softly, delicately, as if parting from a lover for the last time. She raised her gaze and saw two twin tears leaking from her aunts' reddened eyes. Tears of anger or pain, hatred or regret, she didn't know. She didn't care to know. Commanding her broom silently to hover, she collected her belongings and rose into the air. Turning her head, she clicked her fingers and several tiny creatures poking through minute holes in the cottage's thatching vanished to a place of safety, just as the roof explosively set alight in a blaze of fury, the towering flames burning higher and higher into the sky.**_

_**"You'd best get in there quick, before you lose that, too. Let me assure you – it is not an illusion." The sentence, completed with a satisfied smile, was followed by the release of her aunts, who dropped to the ground.**_

_**Hecketty teetered unsteadily, so stiff and cold, and watched as Henbane clutched her hand to her heart and collapsed onto her knees. Hecketty released an unearthly howl, torn between her sister and the smouldering cottage, both of them succumbing to the effect of a muted spell spoken only a few moments ago.**_

_**Constance did not hear the dual shrieks of agonised distress as the suddenly breezy air catapulted her with otherworldly force into the now-darkening sky, projecting her forwards through the cool cotton clouds, her long, trailing hair waving goodbye to her old life, eyes reflecting the emerging moon and twinkling stars, and ears listening to the whistling of the wind taking her to her new home.**_

* * *

"Good grief! Has she been asleep **all **this time?" Herbert said as he came through the door; he wasn't exactly being quiet as he was struggling with a large, rectangular blue plastic coolant box at the time.

"Yep. Pushing the four hour mark," Mildred said, eyeing the clock above the door and standing up to stretch. She had dozed a bit earlier but, judging by Constance's unchanged position and the absence of any ringing alarms, she hadn't woken while Mildred had been asleep or when the staff had come in to check on her.

"Diazepam is strong stuff, I have to admit." _At least the dose we have her on … _"Amelia told me she barely sleeps usually. I think she must be making up for lost time. That said, the enchantment is probably still going to affect her like this for a while yet," Herbert concluded.

"She looks really pretty, doesn't she …" Mildred sighed casually, smiling coyly.

Herbert met her eyes and smiled, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. "Indeed." He put the carrier on the floor beside the floating table just as Amelia walked into the room, carrying a plastic bag.

"I've found you a board game in one of the charity shops, Mildred. It's Scrabble. I used to love playing Scrabble when I was younger."

"Oh, thank you, Miss Cackle."

"I thought it might help Constance's dexterity and be fun for you both when Constance is a little more up to it." She smiled.

Mildred smiled back and took the bag from her while Herbert was setting to with unpacking his container, moving Mildred's magazines and fastidiously wiping the table's surface in the process with a cleansing wipe from the pack next to the tissues on top of the locker. Mildred watched as he then pulled out several takeaway cardboard cartons and put them on the table. Opening the lids one by one, he revealed several sandwiches and pasties, a mixed salad, a few Scotch eggs, some bottles of freshly-squeezed juice and a large cheesecake, followed by condiments, cutlery, plates and green serviettes.

"Ta-da!" He grinned. Mildred grinned back.

As he began to move the box out of the way, Mildred was tempted to ask where the picnic blanket was when Constance suddenly coughed loudly and drew a frighteningly sharp breath. Herbert immediately dashed around the bed, afraid she was choking, as simultaneously the machine indicated a spike in her heart rhythm. Leaning forwards to adjust the slipped oxygen tubing on her face, he gently felt her neck pulse, just as she slowly blinked the sleep away from her eyes, looking up at him as she came to.

He smiled. "Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty."

Constance didn't have time to react to his flattering comment before she coughed again. Mildred was ready and waiting with a drink for her.

"Oh, it's all right, false alarm."

Jackie had just come into the room, looking a little red-faced but otherwise her smiley self. Herbert patted the top of the monitor. "If this were a man he'd be a hit with the ladies for being so sensitive."

Jackie laughed. "Righto, Herbie. And I see Sleeping Beauty has woken up at last!" she said kindly, winking at Mildred and leaving the room again, mentioning she would be back for observations shortly once she'd finished with the 'riot down the hall'.

"I think we need to keep an eye on that chest of yours; we need to start physio as soon as you are able so you don't develop pneumonia."

Constance nodded to Herbert as she regulated her breathing and Mildred put the glass back down, having given her a much-needed drink. Without hesitating, she then took the bed's remote and lifted the top end up so Constance wasn't as flat to help her breathe better. Constance mouthed her thanks to her as Herbert busied himself by taking Constance's blood pressure, intending to shortly check her lungs were still clear.

While he was busy examining Constance, Amelia and Mildred set the table properly for them. Mildred bent down to lift the box's lid that had fallen off when Herbert had rushed past and smiled widely as she saw what was left inside, nestled in between two bags of ice cubes in a small bag. She looked up and grinned at Herbert.

Herbert grinned back as he finished off and went to wash his hands as Mildred took the bag, pushed the box to the side and dug around on the table for a spoon.

Constance looked intrigued as Mildred placed herself onto the bed, putting her feet on the recliner for balance, leaving Herbert to pull up two chairs for himself and Amelia at the table, which he swung around to accommodate them more comfortably.

"Can we tempt you to a sandwich first, Constance?" he said, sitting down and reaching for one of the cartons. "Mini Cornish pasty?"

Constance cleared her throat and shook her head.

"No, thank you. Not quite ready for that yet, I fear."

"Mildred thought you might say that, so I brought an alternative."

At this, Mildred pulled out of the bag a very small tub of strawberry ice cream. With real bits of strawberry. And clotted cream.

Constance raised her eyebrows but could not help but release a small laugh.

"Well, I reckoned I could at least get some of this down you!" Mildred said, laughing, along with Amelia, who was already halfway through a Scotch egg, sausage roll and a cheese sandwich laced generously with pickle. Her plate was unsurprisingly devoid of anything green and leafy.

Mildred eventually negotiated the last mouthful of ice cream with the promise of never charging the other girls to dry their hair for them.

"And which one of you dropped me in it? I had a great little plan cooked up!" she said accusingly, turning and shuffling off the bed as she set about preparing her own plate of food.

Herbert chuckled, slicing into the cheesecake and resisting the urge to just cut it into one half and two quarters. "That would be me. Well, we got her to laugh, didn't we?"

All three looked at Constance.

Constance flopped back onto her pillows and closed her eyes, shaking her head in despair at the eruption of hilarity in the room.

* * *

Imogen looked carefully around the door. She didn't know why she was being cautious _–_ it wasn't as though the room was occupied, at least not by any humans. She spotted Morgana lying on her mistress's bed and tiptoed closer, lest she scare her. Morgana lifted her head up and began to purr as Imogen approached and sat down beside her, tentatively reaching out to stroke her ear.

"Well, then … You're in a brighter mood, aren't you?" Imogen said affectionately. She stepped off the bed a moment and looked beneath it. "That's good. No more being poorly, eh?" She sat back down and stroked Morgana's other ear, finding, surprisingly, she was enjoying it.

Despite not feeling overly confident with animals in general, she could conceivably be called a dog person, if she had to name an animal she did prefer over any other. Cats had always seemed to bother her before, so she had grown to be rather annoyed by them. But dogs she really rather liked. Her grandparents had owned a small dog rescue centre, but two in particular had taken their hearts. They were huge Dobermans _–_ the type expected to be anything but cuddly, but they were. And very loyal. When her grandfather had died, they had been lost, of course, but other than howling afterwards they didn't react particularly oddly. But the occurrence with her grandmother's death had stuck in her mind. The two dogs _–_ brothers, and as such very close _–_ had stayed by the bedside all the time during her final hours, sitting at the base and staring at their dying mistress. And when the moment came and her grandmother took her last breath, the pair, who had been watching her body non-stop, suddenly moved their gaze, taking it slowly from her body and up into the corner of the room. Imogen had been there for days without sleep, and wasn't in the best condition from emotional and physical exhaustion, but she knew what she had seen, and while the other members of her family shrugged it off, Imogen knew the dogs had watched her grandmother's spirit leave her body.

It was the day after that horrendous night when Imogen, wandering around while the girls were occupied, went to Constance's room and sat on her bed, feeling the pressing need to be in the essence of the woman who had undoubtedly saved their lives. But while on the bed, she had picked up an odour, and found beneath the bed a small pool of _–_ presumably cat _–_ vomit. And then, upon looking at Constance's door, she had seen the furious scratches scrawled maniacally into the wood. Imogen had obviously cleaned up the mess, but couldn't help thinking about what had happened with her grandmother, and if, somehow, Morgana had been aware of what was happening to her mistress _–_ and was still aware of what Constance was going through …

Amelia hadn't said anything, other than that Constance was slowly improving, supported with the odd elaboration on how she was generally. But **was** she improving? **Was** Amelia telling them the whole truth? Imogen was fairly certain she wasn't, but she would have to broach the subject very carefully with Davina if she hoped to gain more information and not have Amelia find out, as she felt sure Davina was privy to more than she herself was being told. She rose from the bed and gave Morgana a final stroke, sniffing automatically but finding she didn't actually need to, for her nose was bone dry. She quickly ran her finger over the bottom of the bedstead and felt the layer of dust between her skin, making a mental note to make sure the room was cleaned before Constance returned; she was fairly certain Constance would not be in a fit state to do it herself for some time. While the woman might not be thrilled about having someone else run around after her and potentially be invading her privacy, as well, Imogen reasoned she was more likely to be grateful of a nice, fresh space to recuperate in. And, more to the point, she would be in no position to object. After such an injury and resulting complications, she was unlikely to be back to her former self for many, many months _–_ if ever. Imogen knew she would never be the same again, and she suspected it would be the same for all concerned on that night, Constance above all.

She went over to Constance's window and set it ajar to let some air circulate, then left and walked along the short way to Davina's room, stopping quite suddenly by the door. She could hear music from within. She paused to listen, closing her eyes without even realising it.

Minutes passed, then suddenly music stopped and a voice replaced it.

"Come in, Imogen."

Imogen started, jutting her neck painfully and quickly wiping the unexpected tears from her face. "H-how did you know it was me?" she asked meekly, rubbing her inner shoulder and swallowing pointedly.

"Years of hearing you sniffing from your cat allergy, dear," called the voice from within the bedroom. "Well, the allergy you used to have, anyway," Davina added quietly under her breath. "Come on in. I'll show you my most treasured possession."

Imogen peered around the door at first, still unsure. Davina had been into her room a few times _–_ mostly to deliver Imogen various remedies over the years when she'd run out of modern medication. None of them had really worked, but Imogen had always been touched that she cared enough to try and help. She, however, had not yet been invited to see the elderly witch's quarters.

Imogen stopped halfway in, at first too busy looking around the bright chamber to see whereabouts the witch actually was. She was dumbstruck; completely enchanted. The room's layout of en suite and window placement was the same as Constance's, but a mirror image, yet its appearance completely different. Seemingly hundreds of pictures adorned the walls; some in decorative frames, some not; some in colour, most in black-and-white or sepia. Its aroma was wonderfully fragrant; so fresh and summery, not at all musky or damp. The scent seemed to radiate from the vividly pink roses on Davina's wide windowsill. Imogen was the drawn to the sight of Davina's dark-gold, metal-rimmed bed directly in front of her. It was a double, like all the staff had, and it was covered with a simply beautiful and so-carefully detailed patchwork quilt. She smiled at the several cuddly toys huddled together in the middle of a huge mound of fluffy-looking pillows, one toy of which was a scruffy hedgehog. Painted in the few remaining gaps on the whitewashed walls were colourful music notes, and Davina's furniture _–_ inclusive of a bedside table, a wardrobe, an impressive ten-level chest of drawers, a dressing table, two small matching bookcases, and a small desk and un-matching comfy chair beneath it _–_ was what Imogen knew to be called 'shabby chic' _–_ rough-looking creamy white exteriors in a deliberate scruffy fashion _–_ or else refurnishing projects Davina hadn't got around to finishing yet. Eventually, having cast her eyes over Davina's many objects from abroad _–_ including a didgeridoo as long as a broomstick and a lengthy rug that looked like a magic carpet straight out of _Aladdin_ _– _as well as an easel bearing a half-finished watercolour painting, a stand with several sheets of paper bursting from within its grips, the odd item of clothing yet to be hung in the wardrobe – including her pink slippers, trinkets scattered about the place, a biscuit tin in the shape of a witch's hat, and at least three more vases, each filled with half-eaten carnations, Imogen's vision finally found her colleague, nestled away in the upper corner of the room by the window, and she was immediately drawn to the instrument Davina was sitting behind. She automatically walked closer to view it properly. It was a magnificent harp _–_ and its shell made entirely from glass. Imogen was mesmerised by its beauty. From the snail-shell curled top, hand-carved designs adorned the top and sides; the etched decorations ranged from flowers and plants to cats to hedgehogs to bats, all placed in amongst dozens of trees, insects and animals, along with mystical creatures like dragons, mermaids and fairies. The tiny detail was exquisite. It was on a matching adjustable stand, which was equally as impressive, and entire piece glistened as if filled with thousands of diamonds. The strings themselves were silvery, and if you looked closely they appeared to have a pattern on them, which seemed to read out a name. And the small seat upon which Davina was elegantly perched was a rosy shade of pink, the cushion padded with velvet and also supported by glittering glass legs. The room and its contents were so inviting and full of life's experiences that Imogen found herself wondering why on the earth the woman spent so much time in a cramped stationery cupboard. She blinked and cleared her throat.

"I um … I knew you played …" Imogen scoffed inwardly, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "I mean, um … Of course I knew you could play music … but … I didn't k-know you could play a harp … or … play like that. For a moment, I … I could have been in a concert hall … Davina, it was breathtaking."

Davina smiled gently, taking her hands away from the instrument and setting it safely back into a locked position on the stand.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Imogen. Some things are best left unsaid until the time is right, if that time ever comes. That piece is from another life, but … I felt the need to replay it."

"What was it?"

"Clair de Lune, by Debussy. It's usually piano, but … with the harp, I find it so … tranquil. So full of hope … and nature. An old night taking us into a dawning new day. A reminder of what's good in this world … and what comes in the next."

Imogen took in Davina a little more closely, drawing nearer without realising it. The older woman had been crying; not heaving sobs, but just small, occasional tears _–_ perhaps obliviously as she played. The drying streaks on her face were almost gone, but her eyes were still moist and wide.

"Have you ever lost anyone, Imogen?"

Imogen paused, taken somewhat by surprise; considering her time at Cackle's and the many conversations they had had between them, the aspect of loss was something, until now, uncommented upon. And the fact she had just been thinking about two of her greatest losses she thought uncanny.

"I um … yes. Yes, I have. A few, actually." She cleared her throat quietly and put her hands in her pockets, noticing the cool temperature of the room, seemingly made more so with the talk of death.

Davina nodded. "Hmm …" She carefully turned and rose from her undersized stool, placing it closer to the instrument.

Imogen waited for a second to see if any more information was forthcoming. Davina merely kissed her fingers and then glided the tips across the top, before approaching and sidling past her colleague and heading towards the door with the smallest of watery smiles. As Imogen was left alone, hearing Davina's footsteps disappearing down the corridor, she gazed at the harp for a few more seconds, and then at the pictures on the walls, feeling a lump forming once more in her throat. In that instant, she realised such a gesture was indicative of only one thing: the worst possible kind of loss.

* * *

Amelia came into land rather more bumpily than she intended to, causing her to feel her earlier consumed hunk of cheesecake unpleasantly in the back of her throat. Slamming her feet against the ground as she landed, she tapped her broom harshly in temper, flinching at her arthritic joints jolting against the concrete, not to mention her second best shoes being scratched. Swinging her handbag over her shoulder as she dismounted, her broom took itself over to the broom shed. She watched as it barged through the hanging tennis balls, leaning with a bang against the wall. Amelia was quite convinced it was throwing a strop.

She made her way to the staffroom, passing the odd pupil but noticing that the grounds and, indeed, school itself seemed unusually quiet. She took the long way around, going via the kitchens for a quick glass of water and an effervescent antacid tablet (which she was tempted to wash down with some bread and cheese to mop up the extra juices but resisted), before continuing to her destination. Upon entering, she was met with Imogen's back, and Imogen was shaking her head while staring out of the window. Amelia approached and looked herself, hanging her hat and cloak up on the way. Now congregating in the courtyard, emerging from beneath the arch which led to the back of the school, was Algernon, the excited-looking first-years, several of the second- and third-year girls, and the endlessly enthusiastic Fenella and Griselda, both of whom had their ties wrapped around their heads like Karate fighters. It appeared Algernon was being greatly encouraged to have a ride on Griselda's broomstick.

"Do I even want to know …?" Amelia said, sighing hugely as she dropped her bag onto the table.

"Oh, hello, Amelia." Imogen turned to her left to see Amelia standing beside her, clearly despairing with the girls' antics. She cleared her throat. "How have things been today? Have they moved her?"

"Yes … Yes, this morning, Imogen." She turned to face her PE teacher. "She's on the post-op ward now. Private room. Herbert has been pulling **quite** a few strings."

"I'll bet," Imogen said, tidying up her few sports magazines on the table as Amelia sat in the flowery chair.

"Do you know if Egbert is coming this afternoon, dear?"

Imogen shook her head. "He's staying at Pentangle's today and possibly tomorrow, I think, but he indicated he would call at some point, according to Algernon. Apparently he wants to see how Phyllis and company get on before leaving them for longer periods of more than a day, just in case." Though 'just in case' of what Imogen was not quite sure, past the obvious. "And Mr Hallow has yet to call," she added, wondering if Amelia would say anything about that.

Amelia merely nodded. She suspected Egbert had been dealing with Ethel's father along with everything else she wasn't yet privy to, and for some things she was grateful for that, especially as Mr Hallow could be an insufferable idiot at the best of times. As for the rest, yes, of course she was grateful for his _–_ and Algernon's _–_ help. It was just … She still felt ever so slightly patronised. But, while she may have promised Herbert she wouldn't tell Egbert what he had divulged to her, she didn't say she wouldn't question Egbert on the subject of things in general; perhaps he would be prepared to enlighten her further on what precisely was going on that she didn't seem to know about, especially regarding things that could directly affect her beloved school as well as her beloved deputy. She wouldn't know until she asked.

Imogen placed herself in the other chair, wondering, as Davina wasn't in earshot, if the headmistress might be willing to confide in her the same way she obviously did Davina and the wizards, still convinced was she that she was always last one to know everything in the school. Perhaps, this time, with Morgana in mind, she knew more than they did.

"So … um. She's doing okay, then? Improving?"

"What? Sorry, I was miles away, Imogen. Yes, she is. Very slow process, of course, but she'll soon be back with us, I hope. But she will be confined to bed for a while, I think." _Even if I have to pin her there myself …_

Amelia smiled and Imogen briefly flashed a smile back, itching to ask if there had been any complications that could – to her mind – account for Morgana's behaviour. She decided to sweeten the pot by telling Amelia of a few happenings within the school in the hope she would encourage a good talking session between them.

"The fifth-years have been very busy in the last couple of days. They've turned the theatre into an tutoring arena for now so that they can showcase their talents to the younger girls. They seem to have responded to it really well, though I'm not sure Constance would approve of their methods."

"I think she would throw a fit." Amelia laughed. "But it's pleasantly surprising, as I've never had quite this much trust in them all before. Perhaps we should give them more freedom in future."

"Hmm …" Imogen nodded, not entirely in agreement after what they did to the broom shed and her equipment. "Though, er, I have to admit, even the gym has had a few of them playing games when the rain's been too heavy. I think it was the best idea we've had to purchase the Muiltiway licence."

"Oh, undoubtedly, Imogen, undoubtedly. I just wish we could have foreseen what was coming before using all of the funds on other things. It was the biggest purchase and it isn't as though a refund is an option with a spell like that. To have had it revoked would have cost us just as much after it was cast, but at least it's paid up for the next ten years before we find ourselves needing to renew it. Even so, I should have quite literally saved some of the money for a rainy day …"

"You weren't to know, Amelia. The damage was beyond a joke and the cruellest of Sod's law, but at least none of us were injured. The castle did get a battering, though. And after all that work and effort … It's a pity the spell can't preserve and protect the rooms, as well. Or at least the bloody roof! We should have had an indoor swimming pool incorporated." Imogen gave a short laugh, shrugging at the irony of her words.

Amelia folded her arms, sighing heavily as she slouched further back into the chair.

"A pool would be nice for the girls, I agree." Amelia smiled to herself: not that she'd use it, given the likelihood of finding herself enduring a water aerobics lesson from Imogen; apart from the exercise part, she was well aware of her resemblance to a bulging blancmange in her swimming costume … Although, to be fair, she had lost a little weight in recent weeks. "But I'm afraid it's how it was created. The non-Foster's copyright on it belongs to the Federation and, like our hats, it can only be manipulated to a point before the Stoppage will be invoked so the magic has a chance to wear off, although I don't truly believe anything is entirely Foster's-proof, despite what they claim. I think it's rather arrogant of them to charge for the privilege, really, but I suppose they want to enforce the anti-triviality clause. At any rate, in our case it has certainly saved time and trouble and created improved diversity by having the Great Hall as the Great Hall, dining room, theatre and gym all at the same time. The classes are scheduled better and free time more unrestrained for the girls, especially the more restless older year groups."

"I still get mixed up." Imogen grinned, feeling Amelia was perhaps relaxing enough now to open up a bit.

Amelia chuckled. "My dear, there are only four entry doors, and the main double doors are always going to be the Great Hall. How do you manage to forget the order of the rest?"

"Oh, I don't know. But at least the girls have stopped taking the p— Well, stopped teasing me about it now."

"I daresay a few of them got mixed up themselves, dear. I find the best part is the additional Thoroughfare aspect to it; I am glad we decided on that. Who would have thought travelling through a fireplace to another fireplace would actually work? I actually heard the girls mention a while ago that some clever person had obviously heard of the process as they had used it in their book about 'magic'. From what I could gather, it sounded rather more daunting than our simple tunnel system. I daresay Natalia would hand in her notice if she was expected to travel through actual flames from the kitchen."

Imogen cracked out laughing. "Ah, yes. Harry Potter. A favourite of my nephew. I think I would keep such books away from the girls; they may get unrealistic ideas."

"I intend to." Amelia smiled. "We've quite enough on for now, I think."

"It is lovely to have the food absolutely piping hot, though."

"Oh, indeed, Imogen. Especially her glorious traditional lasagne; all that hot melted cheese …"

Imogen smiled back, wondering if Amelia would be happy to bathe in the stuff. "Oh, but the extra lanterns for everyone are a vast improvement on candles. I only need three to brighten my room like a surgical theatre! At least none of them broke."

"Ah, yes. The GlowBright glass in them is most effective, if expensive. But the girls did say they felt so much better, especially in the dark evenings, with infinitely more light. They have all been so appreciative of them, in fact. I didn't realise they found the darkness so … oppressive … And, yes, we were fortunate there. We couldn't afford to replace another bulk order like that!"

Imogen laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I could have got them somewhere under the Sales of Goods Act! But I think they were worth it. I know can read so much more comfortably now, even with only one lit."

Amelia smiled, feeling slightly guilty she hadn't ever looked at investing in them before and relieving her girls and staff of the visual difficulties of dim light, in spite of the cost.

Imogen cleared her throat a couple of times, bracing herself for a possible backfiring of her forthcoming question.

"So, um … H-has Constance spoken y—?"

Davina suddenly entered loudly, throwing the door wide open and banging it against Constance's desk.

"That's it! I've had it up to here!"

Amelia sat up. "What have they done **now**?"

"What part of 'DO NOT mess with Frank Blossom's tool shed' do they not understand?!"

Imogen sighed, clamping her hands over her face. "Fenella and Griselda?" she mumbled through her fingers. _Fuck! Fuckitty fucking fuck! _she thought.

"Who else!" Davina snapped.

Imogen glanced at Amelia through the gaps. Davina headed for the stationery cupboard, climbing inside and slamming the doors shut firmly behind her.

"We really should start charging her rent for there, you know," Amelia said wearily as she got to her feet. She and Imogen stepped out into the hallway. Several of the older girls were standing, having stomach-creasing hysterics, and looking upwards when they were not bent double.

"Oh …" Amelia exhaled deeply as Imogen raised her gaze.

Floating on the ceiling were four heavily used painting sheets, each the side of a double bed; a great number of brushes of all shapes and sizes, several cans of paint, spanners, wrenches, hammers, screwdrivers, pliers, saws, hand drills and a plunger, as well as varyingly sized glass jars, all filled with various bits and pieces, spare odd ends of broken furniture, cylindrical tubes of glue, hoses, buckets, gardening equipment, and a long piece of wood with a bubbled tube in the centre.

"That would be what they meant by lifting everyone's spirit levels then …"

Amelia, ignoring her highly amused colleague, closed her eyes and began to bang her head back against the wall. "Roll on getting her back!"

Imogen wiped tears away as she attempted to control her laughter. Maybe now Amelia would be willing to talk a little more – with a drop of whiskey to 'steady her nerves', perhaps?

"Nice, strong cup of tea, Amelia?"

* * *

Davina sighed as she placed several large tomes back on the shelves in the library. A little out of breath, she sat, setting herself down heavily. She smiled to herself, far calmer than she had been earlier. Fenella and Griselda may be a double handful at times, but they sure could entertain the girls – even though it did mean the castle would probably need one hell of a spring clean once things were back to normal. Yet, in a way, she felt relieved they were taking so much onboard between them, and the rest of the girls, for that matter. They were doing Amelia and the school proud, really – albeit with the odd mishap here and there. Ultimately, it took some of the strain off herself and Imogen to try and maintain normality, and normal lessons were simply not conducive to the present situation. She wasn't sure about her colleagues, but she was still feeling the ill-effects of the enchantments used upon them. She thought so, anyway. Maybe she was just feeling her age. She wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling.

Cackle's was unlikely to ever be the same again in her remaining lifetime; perhaps even after that. She felt quite certain things were only beginning. Changes were coming – and not necessarily good ones. Something was amiss; she knew it was. Maybe more than just one thing, at that. Apart from the obvious implausibility of Agatha herself orchestrating such an intricate and daring scheme, there were Constance's actions to consider. She clearly knew what she had been doing. But how?

Egbert had assured her he was handling matters, which was a great weight from their shoulders, but she knew eventually they would have to give a formal explanation to the powers-that-be – and to the girls' parents, for a start. Granted, only four pupils had actually seen Constance being attacked and very few could remember her critical state in the split seconds afterwards, but the principle remained. For now, at least, there was the merciful period of freedom from Mr Hallow, the Board, Guild and Federation's involvement. But for how long?

Davina shrugged in her seat and put her tired head in her hands, removing her glasses and laying them on the table before her. She felt … muddled. She had tried repeatedly to process all the information she had been privy to since that night, both directly and indirectly, but it was to no avail. She was still confused. And irritated. A spark of familiarity was within her memory and she couldn't reach it. A piece of knowledge she knew was significant yet couldn't recall fully enough to make sense of it. She closed her eyes and placed her cool hands on her forehead and neck. Though still a fair while before night-time, it had been another long day …

* * *

Imogen quietly closed the staffroom door as her superior let out a thunderously loud snore, shaking her head in despair. She looked at her wristwatch, just as Morgana came padding up the corridor towards her. Imogen bent down to tickle her ears as she passed, nudging to enter the staffroom.

_You won't get a thing out of her. Believe me, I've tried … _she thought, opening the door enough for the creature to pass through.

Amelia didn't wake as Morgana jumped onto her lap and curled up. She merely let out another snore, at which the cat meowed her annoyance before joining her in an afternoon siesta …

_**"Constance? Are you quite all right, dear? Assembly is about to start."**_

_**Amelia heard no reply to her assertive knocking. She hesitated, running her tongue over her teeth and taking a breath, ever so slightly worried. There could be a perfectly rational explanation: perhaps Constance was in the shower and had lost track of the time? Perhaps she had overslept? No, that was impossible. Constance oversleeping would be the equivalent of Davina lasting a day without singing – not going to happen. She bit her lip – what if Constance had slipped and hit her head and was lying unconscious in a pool of blood?**_

_**"Constance! Dear, it's Amelia, may I come in?"**_

_**Again, there was no reply. Amelia decided whatever it was could be justified by entering uninvited. She was most respectful of her staff's privacy; the only thing she requested was that their doors were never locked at night, unless, for whatever reason, absolutely necessary. They could have absolute privacy in their personal bathrooms, by all means, but what if a pupil should need their help in an emergency and was unable to rouse them through a locked door? Supposing there was a fire, or worse? Amelia considered herself both sensible and cautious, and the girls would never contemplate not knocking on a member of staff's door and intruding without warning. Besides, after what happened at her own school that time, she felt it necessary to be extra careful, both for her pupils' sake and staff's.**_

_**She cleared her throat as she knocked again, excessively, then twisted the handle and entered.**_

_**"Oh, gracious!"**_

_**Amelia stood for a moment, startled. She wouldn't have been surprised to find Constance in bed, and perhaps with a touch of the flu; or else to see her flapping around the room getting ready in haste; or even to hear a voice warbling from the bathroom, absent-mindedly forgetting the time. But she did not expect to see a deathly white young woman, lying almost flat, shivering violently and completely covered in her nightclothes, dressing gown, sheet and blankets, clutching her arms across her waist and gripping the material covering her up to her neck.**_

_**"Constance! Good God, what is it?!" she uttered, mild panic in her voice as she hastened to the bed. She felt Constance's forehead, pulling her hand back in shock at how cold she was. It was as if her skin was pure ice; it tingled and almost burned to the touch.**_

_**"I … I … F-f—" Constance tried to lift herself up, evidently struggling greatly to support herself.**_

_**Amelia gently put her arms beneath her and helped her rise.**_

_**"What are you trying to say?"**_

_**"I … I … A-Ame—"**_

_**Amelia's own heart was pounding relentlessly in her ears. Constance's wide eyes were almost black to behold; her pupils were enormous, deep – and terrified. But she didn't look terrified for herself; the look on her face when Amelia entered the room was one of horror.**_

_**"Constance … Constance, look at me …"**_

_**Amelia stared into her gaze for a number of seconds; she could feel her employee's shuddery rapid breath pulsating as she held her in her arms.**_

_**"Constance, I need you to try and breathe slowly, all right? Just slowly …"**_

_**Constance suddenly inhaled a breath so sharp it sounded more like a high-pitched hiss.**_

_**"Oh, God …" Amelia took Constance's full weight as the younger woman slumped in her arms, her eyes closing and body falling slack.**_

_**"Constance? Constance, can you hear me?" she asked, previously controlled panic now rising in her voice as she shook her shoulders.**_

_**Constance did not respond. Amelia gently placed her back on the pillows, feeling her neck, concerned at how slow her pulse was thumping beneath her fingers.**_

_**"What on earth has happened to you …?"**_

* * *

Morgana leaped off Amelia's lap as her final snore broke into the atmosphere, waking them both. Amelia shook her head and immediately wished she hadn't. She groaned, placing her cool hand on her forehead.

"Don't suppose you have two aspirin, Morgana?"

* * *

"Davina … Davina …"

Imogen sighed. She couldn't bear to wake her yet. She looked so peaceful.

"I'll come back in half an hour …" she whispered, leaving the old woman to sleep …

**_"There we go, let's get you propped up a bit …"_**

**_"Please, don't fuss. I'm perfectly fine …"_**

**_"Here we are, dear. I've warmed you some broth," Davina said cheerfully as she came through Constance's door and placed the bowl and spoon on Constance's bedside table._**

**_"Constance, you do not collapse then sleep for nearly two days solid when you are fine …"_**

**_"I was just exhausted, Amelia. Nothing more …" Constance let out a long breath, feeling a strong wash of fatigue creeping over her, turning to look up at the elder witch of the pair._**

**_"Thank you, Davina, but I really could not eat anything just now … Perhaps l-later …" Constance leaned her head back , her eyes closing as soon as her head was fully on the pillow._**

**_"Constance …?" Davina took a pace forwards and gently shook her shoulder._**

**_Constance made a small sound, but did not reopen her eyes._**

**_"She can't still be sleepy, surely, Amelia?" Davina said agog, standing by Constance's bedside table. _**

**_Amelia carefully placed herself onto the bed beside her slumbering potions teacher._**

**_"When I hired her, Davina, something was urging me to … and I don't know what. I … could have sworn there was someone … there … I don't know … It was as if my brain or something was talking to me about her …"_**

**_"Really …? You … didn't say before …" Davina muttered softly, leaning over and pulling a lock of hair away from Constance's face, leaving her hand resting on her hairline for a second longer._**

**_Amelia looked up at Davina, watching her brushing her index finger over Constance's brow in a mothering fashion._**

**_"She's like her, isn't she?"_**

**_Amelia pursed her lips and drew a slow breath through her nose, letting it out through her mouth in a sigh._**

**_"Yes, she is, Davina. I cannot deny it; she is very like her."_**

**_Amelia cleared her throat as Davina wiped her eyes with her sleeve and sniffed quietly._**

**_"Help me lay her flat, dear. I think she's out for the rest of the night …"_**

**_Davina smiled, and together she and Amelia cautiously, tenderly, lifted up their youngest colleague and adjusted her sleeping position, placing her back down with the same delicate touch as one would with a newborn baby._**

**_Amelia lifted the blankets up further around her body, watching as Davina walked around the bed and sat back in the chair she had occupied since Constance took ill._**

**_"At least she seems to have warmed up a bit – she was so very icy, Davina. Make sure the fire stays lit."_**

**_"Hmm …" Davina lazily flicked her hand in the direction of the fireplace, causing the dying flames to flicker with a fresh burst of life, though a few pieces of wood threatened to spill over the grate with the slightly unbridled force of her spell. "I'll stop with her still … Just in case something happens."_**

**_"Are you sure?"_**

**_Davina gave a small smile and nodded._**

**_"I'll come back in a bit; I don't think I will sleep much tonight, anyway." Amelia smiled and quietly left the room, causing the single candle to waver in the bedside lantern._**

**_Davina leaned back as Amelia left the room. She sat for over an hour pondering her options; the same options she'd been pondering for the last twenty-fours hours, mingled with her memories and urging her to proceed. Her courage would build and she would begin to move before retracting. This had occurred several times, her mind pulling her body back each time before she fully rose. She knew it would be an intrusion. An unprovoked intrusion. Morally reprehensible in every way. She wasn't a doctor; she had no right to take such a liberty when her young colleague was so vulnerable. But she had to know. It was wrong, but what if she was right? Could she live with herself for not checking? – for not making certain? She had to know for sure. And if she didn't do it now, she never would. There may never be another time. She could reason out the pros and cons all night, but she knew she'd still come to the same conclusion, and if she left it too long, the opportunity would be gone. She had to do it. She had to._**

**_Silently standing from her chair, Davina tentatively walked around the bed, moving closer to Constance, daring not to breathe. She paused, her right hand hovering in the air above Constance's chest. Ever so carefully, she lifted Constance's resting hand from her path and peeled back her blankets, dressing gown and clothing underneath, pulling it back far enough to view her shoulder. Upon doing so, Constance suddenly took a sharp but unconscious breath. Davina paused with a slight jump, then reverted her vision and gasped at the revelation of several shiny light-pink curved lines emblazoned like strokes of pearlescent ink across Constance's white skin. Hand suspended above, she narrowed her eyes to scrutinise the patterns, stopping dead at the sight of two pinhead-sized dots on her neck. Davina squeaked out a muffled cry, her hand going to her mouth in shock. She fleetingly drew her gaze to Constance's still-closed eyes and swallowed, then gingerly pulled the opposite side like the first, gently easing it towards Constance's left, her vision adjusting through increasing eye moisture to the sight that met her: a series of small, crater-like circular scars upon a thinly skinned collarbone. But not just scars – they were burns. And she knew from what. She stifled another cry of nauseating recognition, abruptly withdrawing her hand and straightening up, tears of appal forming in her eyes as she clasped her shaking limb to her pulsating heart._**

**_"I … I w-was s-so s-sure … Even the c-cat …" Davina quickly glanced at her feline, sitting and watching them intently. "Y-you … y-you even h-have … y-you must h-have been … It c-can't be a c-coincidence …"_**

**_Her breath of words was but a murmur of barely coherent prose, but with them Constance unexpectedly twitched then jumped, waking in the process and opening her eyes wide, blinking in the dim light and instinctively drawing the loosened garments back over her uncovered upper chest, her hands rapidly clawing the edges and criss-crossing the material up and around her neck._**

**_"Davina …?" Her voice was equally a whisper, hoarse and awash with confusion. _**

**_Davina continued to stand stock-still and stare back at the young woman lying and glaring at her in stunned silence._**

**_"I … I … I'm … so s-s-orry … I … I … Y-you're j-just so … s-so a-alike … I … had t-to k-know … M-my … d-d-"_**

**_Constance made to sit up, her arms giving out beneath her weakened body with a release of exerted breath. Davina launched herself forwards to support her, but Constance turned away onto her side, roughly swiping the aiding arms from her trembling form._**

**_"Leave me …"_**

**_"C-Constance, p-please … I … I can e-explain – I c-can e-explain …"_**

**_"Please … Leave me …"_**

**_Davina, having drawn back from the bed, gingerly advanced a step and began to place a comforting hand on the shoulder facing her. _**

**_"Constance … I – I won't say a-anything … Y-you h-have my w-word … It was j-just … I h-had to s-see … You … You're s-so much alik—"_**

**_"GET OUT!"_**

**_Davina squeaked a reply and fled, pulling the door shut behind her as her grief broke free and salty water ran down her face as she dropped to the floor outside the room, bending her chin inwards and clenching her teeth to preclude her incoming howls. She made to dematerialise and swore repeatedly under her breath as she was prevented by a lacerating scorch of fire flashing across her chest and into her head. She scrambled up and took off at a half-stumbled run towards her quarters down the corridor, slamming the door behind her as she flew through towards the window, throwing it open and leaning out as far as she dare to inhale the biting night-time air, gripping the wooden frame for stability and clutching her chest as she struggled to regulate her breathing. Woozily, she began to force slow inhalations, slumping down onto the windowsill and wiping her still-pooling eyes with her trembling hand. She sat for a few minutes, quietly, taking in the freezing but refreshing snow-filled air. Eventually, shivering, she closed the window and turned around, hearing noise coming from the entrance. She slowly rose and walked over, watching as her cat entered through the invisible cat flap in her bedroom door. She bent down and lifted her up. _**

**_"I thought you were watching over her, Cality?" she muttered, stroking the animal's purring head. "God help me if Amelia realises I've modified the door, but you would keep scratching the wood …" she whispered into the cat's ear, placing her back down and opening the door, wondering how she got out of Constance's shut room. "Go on. She … she needs looking after …"_**

**_Davina watched the feline walk back up the corridor and turn the corner, tail twitching and head turning back just once for reassurance. Davina leaned her head on the doorframe, eyes directed towards Constance's quarters._**

**_"She'd have been your age now, Constance … My Poppy would have just turned twenty-two … And she could have been so many wonderful things … I thought … I really thought she'd come back to me somehow … Even Musicality agrees with me … She's all I have left of her now …"_**

**_Davina sighed and pulled the door closed behind her, making her way back to Constance's room. She may well be shouted out again, but she had to check she was all right, for her sake as well as Constance's. _**

**_She approached, spotting the obediently awaiting feline and the still-closed door. She shrugged, too exhausted to ponder how the animal got out, and reached for the handle, turning it so apprehensively it took her three attempts to fully twist it open. Pushing it a few stiff inches, she cautiously peered around the door, allowing the cat to slip in. Constance was still on her side. Davina timorously crept further into the room and towards the bed, close enough to lean over her still form; she couldn't completely see her face, but Davina considered her slow, regular breathing to be of one within the realms of deep slumber. She retreated on tiptoe and slid back through the slim gap, leaving only her head poking through, her hand holding the door, watching her cat leap onto the bed._**

**_"I know I crossed an unforgivable line, Constance … And I … I know I shouldn't have … But I hope, one day, you will forgive me …" She caught the gaze of the two cats in the room, both on the end of the bed and purring like warm engines, knowing, if she and Amelia were needed, there would be two guarding messengers to fetch them._**

**_Davina carefully left the door with an adequate gap and briefly shut her eyes, sighing once more, before walking away and making a promise in her mind as she departed – one she didn't intend to ever break._**

**_The fresh peals of anguish had left her raw like so many years before, along with the knowledge that her new colleague was far from what she appeared to be – and was highly unlikely to ever allow unauthorised entry into her past. Constance's defensive pride would inhibit any chance of explanation on Davina's part, for in place of her understanding was bitter anger born from unwarranted mistrust. Davina's own dignity of character would find her challenging Constance's authority on many occasions as time elapsed, frustrated with her aloof manner and icy conduct, as if her spirit wasn't really inside her walking, talking body, but trapped in another place where – to find it – Constance would have to allow others to help her look. Davina would try many times before her will to continue would dwindle into weary apathy, resolved to never know the truth from Constance's lips, and to never find closure of her own in the process. But she never, despite the disputes to frequent the pair, forgot that night, and the unearthly form of a sleeping beauty, surrounded by light so white, the scene couldn't be considered as anything else but the embodiment of absolute purity._**

**_Perhaps, if Constance had known the reasons at the time, their relationship would not have suffered so endlessly – so wastefully, for their common ground of loss could have united them where nothing else, at the time, could._**

**_But she didn't. Constance would not realise until sixteen years later, in an aptly snow-covered cemetery, when she would see into the heart of a woman who was also adept at blocking others out where they were not welcome, and each would find they were not so disparate after nearly two decades of each other's obligatory company – once they had stopped stubbornly trying so hard to prove otherwise. _**

**_And from then, only more time would tell if it was too late to salvage a friendship from the vestiges of broken trust, and a now-meaningless promise of long ago._**

* * *

Imogen gently shook the shoulders of the elderly witch; she didn't want her suffering later for falling asleep in such an awkward position. Davina's head was propped on her arms, which felt somewhat dead to the half-asleep witch. Imogen tapped her again.

"Davina. Come on, you should go and rest properly. Maybe have an early night."

"Hmm …" Davina opened her eyes and blinked. "Oh, hello, Imogen …" She yawned and rubbed her stiff neck. "Did I nod off?"

Imogen smiled. "Looks like it. Amelia went for a walk about an hour ago so she'll be back soon. She said she will make sure the girls are all settled and dealt with later so we can have some 'me time'."

Davina smiled, stretching. "Where are they all now?"

"Eating supper. Well, dinner. They'll be expecting more evening treats later, no doubt. Natalia is keeping an eye on things. Amelia said she'd take over once she'd had a chance to clear her headache." Imogen said, her voice not revealing of the fact the cause of the headache was the addition to the teapot of some rather strong alcohol she had found in the back of the cupboard, which was clearly stronger than the intended whiskey. Not that the plan had worked. Amelia had nodded off in the chair and woken with a mini-hangover. Imogen decided it was the first and last time she would try and relax the headmistress into divulging information.

"Hmm …"

"Are you all right, Davina?"

"Yes … Yes, I think so, Imogen. Just … you brought back a memory … or two …"

"I did?"

"Hmm …"

Imogen sat down beside Davina. She wasn't quite sure Davina **was** all right; the pale woman looked a bit troubled. And very much her age.

"What is it?"

Davina replaced her glasses, trying to forget her dream but finding it impossible, although Imogen's actions had brought forth another thought to her mind.

"Oh, nothing really …" She sniffed.

"Go on …" Imogen urged, with as undemanding a tone as she should manage.

Davina looked up. "Oh, it's just … Well, a number of weeks ago now, I came in here to take out a few books on chanting with your cats, and Constance was asleep at the table. I … was rather surprised. I mean, it was after lights out but, even so, I couldn't imagine Constance ever sleeping at a table, so I tried to wake her – only she wouldn't wake. I shook her and shook her for ages before she eventually came to. Then, before I could say a thing, she was up, off and out, muttering something about needing some air and that was that. When I tried to broach the subject the next day she shrugged it off and told me she was fine and wouldn't discuss it."

Imogen nodded, unsure of the connection.

"You … shrugging my shoulders just now. You … reminded me of it, dear."

Imogen sat back a bit, her face deep in thought.

"Davina, how long ago did you say it was?"

"Oh, I'm not sure exactly. Several weeks. Why?"

"Because only a few weeks ago, I was running in the woods and watched her nearly fall off her broom. I still don't know how she managed to hang on, as it was as if she had momentarily passed out but came to moments before her balance went and somehow managed to salvage her grip. I legged it to the courtyard and she had landed by then and I think she knew I'd seen her by the look on my face but brushed it off with one of her usual remarks and went inside. But she wasn't steady on her feet."

Davina merely nodded. One thing was certainly making sense: Constance had been ill for many weeks, just like Agatha said, infected at that pivotal moment when she infiltrated the castle. But surely she must have realised herself she was ill?

"You're wondering why she didn't do anything, aren't you?" Imogen said, folding her arms.

Davina pursed her lips. "Constance has never been any different, though, Imogen. It wouldn't matter how ill she was; she could be dy—" She stopped herself mid-speech.

"It's all right. I know what you mean, Davina. I think she realised she was ill, but whether she realised why I just don't know. It's only now, thinking back, that I've realised myself the signs were there all the time. How thin she became. So much paler than usual. The now-obvious dizzy spells she was having. And she's never eaten much but she seemed to be doing even less of that, too. I still can't believe none of us really noticed. But … I don't think she could have known what was happening much sooner than we all knew. My memory is still fuzzy but … I think she only got to know the night before the competition took place …"

Davina put her hand up into her hair and loosened her scruffy bun, massaging her tense scalp.

"I agree, Imogen. I may not know her as well as Amelia … but I know her well enough. For her to do what she did … It strikes me of last-minute desperation. But planned, nonetheless. An action borne of only one choice, but plotted to the last detail. Constance is anything but rash."

Davina closed her eyes once more. _Constance never does anything without prior thought, even if it means her death at the end of it._

Imogen cleared her throat as Davina rose from her seat, wondering, again, what Davina knew – or suspected – more than she did.

"Fancy a glass of wine in my room tonight, Davina?"

* * *

"That's impressive, I must say."

Herbert walked over to Mildred, who was building a rather high card castle on the table with the playing cards Herbert had brought her earlier. It was early evening by now. Mildred had not long since devoured two toasted cheese sandwiches (with lashings of brown sauce **and** ketchup, much to Herbert's amusement) and Constance had managed a full slice of toast and a few spoonfuls of tomato soup.

"She sleeps more than Princess Aurora," Herbert commented quietly, taking a chair for himself and sitting at the opposite side of the table to Mildred, passing her a drink from the locker as he did so.

"Maybe she needs a prince to wake her up …" Mildred said, deliberately not looking upwards but straining her eyes to watch for Herbert's reaction.

Guessing, however, what she was doing, Herbert chuckled and said, still very quietly, "Heaven help the man who tries. Comatose or not, she'd soon shift, from what I've gathered …"

Mildred giggled. "Not if he picked her up, she wouldn't. She might try and vanish, though …"

"Or vanish said prince …" _Or else cut off his sword __… _he thought. "So, madam …" He cleared his throat, his eyes lingering on the sleeping woman just a few seconds longer than probably professional. "Scrabble?"

Mildred nodded. "Sounds good to me." She stood up, remained in thought for a moment and then clicked her fingers: the cards obediently flew into a perfect deck and she put them back in the packet.

"It's a good job she's not awake, Mil. Me thinks you'd have just been ticked off for triviality, young lady."

Mildred shook her head. "Given how many times I've knocked the table in the last hour, I think she must have bewitched them to stop up!"

Herbert laughed as Mildred turned and took the Scrabble box from beside the locker and placed it on the table.

"Now, I presume you have played this before?"

Mildred nodded. "Nanny used to play it with me during the holidays."

"In which case, as I'm a beginner, you must allow me to win for at least the first three times."

Mildred giggled and curled up on her knees on her chair.

"Come on, then. Ladies first."

Mildred shook the bag of letters and pulled several out, turning and glancing at Constance, just to be sure she was all right. She hadn't been asleep for long; she may well have heard Herbert's comment, in fact. Mildred smiled inwardly. She sure hoped so. She opened and had a quick swig of her drink while she was thinking about her letters, then began to place them on the board with her left hand, her right finding its way to its usual place.

Constance gripped it slightly as she felt the contact with Mildred's fingers. '_Princess Aurora', indeed. _

Mildred looked up at Herbert. "Your turn." She spun the board around to face him properly. "Prepare to meet thy doom!"

Herbert cracked his knuckles. "Ha! Never fear, my darkly brunette maiden. I shall rise to the challenge. Prepare to be thrashed!"

Mildred laughed as the grip on her hand loosened, and quickly turned to glance at Constance: she had that deeply comatose look about her. Mildred smiled as Constance fell calmly once more into the realms of slumber …

_**Constance stirred as she fuzzily heard a muffled sound across the room. She didn't know long she had been asleep since she officially awoke – a few hours, perhaps? It was harder to judge the time without the frequent mutterings of Davina to give her an indication as to the lateness of the hour – mutterings which had, over the last two nights, been mainly directed at Amelia and their mutual cats, who had been lying like sphinxes on Constance's bed throughout the entire proceedings, leaving only to relieve themselves when necessary.**_

_**Davina had repeatedly talked Amelia (and the cats) through the precise details of the best way of keeping oneself awake in a crisis, especially when one's adrenaline starts to wane, and that was apparently with a basic tonic of Indonesian black coffee, which was at its best when infused with a pinch of cayenne pepper, three drops of diluted frogspawn to give it an extra 'kick', stirred with a berried sprig of guarana that had been lightly toasted in a cauldron and – just for added prettiness – layered with curly swirls of whipped cream and topped with dried and chopped Mongolian ginseng flowers and a few Smarties – but not the blue ones, because they had the nastiest E-number in them.**_

_**If Constance had been awake enough to roll her eyes each time the proposal of another drink was offered to the often-sleepy headmistress – currently run ragged by the introduction of midnight broomstick charades by the tenacious third-years up on the roof – when she popped in to check on things, inevitably yawning, she would have done. Davina herself didn't take the tonic any longer, but was perfectly happy drinking her powdered blackcurrant tea, as long as she could share the Smarties with Amelia (but only the pink and orange ones!).**_

_**As it was, Constance only heard the full recipe on the latest – possibly seventh – uttering, having been too deeply unconscious to acknowledge anything much prior to when she began to come round from her stupor. She had to concede, however, that Davina definitely had a point with the guarana's potency for wakefulness – it would work marvellously with some additional well-chosen ingredients for a tonic with a somewhat more productive 'kick' than the produce of slimy pond life.**_

_**The drink clearly worked for Amelia, though, as her induced wakefulness had allowed Davina to shut her eyes for a while and slouch down a little on the hard chair earlier that afternoon and early evening – only Constance knew she had not been asleep; merely resting her burning eyes and aching head, and thinking. But, inevitably, due to the caffeine-overload shakes catching up with her, Amelia had consequently dropped her knitting needles onto the floor more than once, having taken the lead a few times from Davina's last cast off to help her complete the – presumably – scarf she was knitting for her nephew, though it could have also been a body warmer for her nephew's python, judging by the growing shape. This clattering action had been accompanied each time with a hissed curse or three, not to mention two glared looks from the guarding felines, complete with pinned-back ears, curled-up paws and low growls of sheer exasperation, as well as Davina sighing and insisting that Amelia go and rest.**_

_**Constance, however, had remained virtually undisturbed, until the moment Davina had chosen to disturb her.**_

_**Constance turned over from her side and slowly lifted herself up, feeling her muscles objecting painfully at the unexpected movement and her heartbeat increasing as the blood was beckoned to pump faster by her commanding form. She fleetingly glanced around, noticing the temperature of the room – it had dropped dramatically. Her fireplace had died down from its crackling heat, the once-glowing embers now barely warm. Her bedside candle's wick was smoking as if it had been snuffed only seconds ago. She met eyes with the awake-looking felines, their pupil-filled gaze reflecting the light from the illuminated sepia clouds of the snowy sky pooling in from outside, potently bright through the glass and casting shadows around her room. She blinked. Her curtains, she realised, were no longer drawn. **_

_**Constance listened for a moment and glanced around once more, realising the door was fully closed. Hadn't Davina left it open? One of the cats must have pushed it to, she reasoned. She shrugged and released her arm, relaxing her body back and pulling up her covers, grasping them with a fisted hand. She lay like that for a while, trying to close her eyes to no avail. She turned from her side to her back, drawing her aching hand through her hair, pulling the roots upwards sharply, contracting them between her fingers in an attempt to control the increasing throbbing of her head.**_

_**"Why did you leave me …?" she whispered to the room. "Why did you have to leave, Gabby … Why …? I want you back … I need you, Gabby … Damn it! I need you …"**_

_**Constance's whispered, grief-stricken words rang out into her room as she covered her chest with her arms and clutched her body, biting her bottom lip to prevent her bitter cries escaping and alerting her colleagues. **_

_**"AND ABOUT TIME, TOO, WOMAN! I thought you'd NEVER ask!"**_

_**Constance jumped a mile, shooting up with a surge of dizzying nausea as her blood pressure reacted to the unexpected jerk, her heartbeat once again buzzing through her ears, rhythmically joining her pounding head. She grasped the blankets to steady herself, widening her vision around the room and staring madly into every shadowy corner like a frightened animal in a beast's den.**_

_**"RELAX – it's ME! Now … erm … right … Hmm … Yep, okay … right … Actually, just hang on a sec, will you – give me a minute or so to figure this out – I'm not quite sure how to appear on demand … Just give me a mo …" the bodiless voice continued. "It's happened by accident a few times, though," it added casually, sounds of rustling now being heard, "and all because of sodding Flickouts! – HONESTLY! A few necessary little detours while you were surrounded by swarming bees and the TROUBLE I had!" The rustling then stopped and all was silent until … "Oh – um …" the voice lowered to a whisper, "and whatever you might read in the papers, I swear the incident at Buckingham Palace wasn't my fault … Or at Pinewood Studios … Or Her Majesty's Theatre … Or Madame Tussauds …"**_

_**Constance's eyes came to rest upon a shimmering whitish-blue orb in the topmost corner of her room, above her wall-mounted mirror and dressing table, hovering in the air. Her hearing suddenly seemed more acutely aware of the continuing words, her ears popping and ringing with a low hum as she swallowed nervously. The voice spoke again, and with a heartfelt jolt Constance finally recognised the owner behind the words as the voice laughed with her trademark snort.**_

_**"– Or that checkout incident in Tesco with the guy with a wooden leg and his half-eaten egg sandwich – I only wanted to 'borrow' a magazine from the counter! And just don't get me started on that old witch and her inbred donkey called Dwayne stuck halfway up the M1 – the donkey, not the witch … I think I should have just risked staying at that old dear Mrs Cosie's down the road instead of flitting all over the place, but needs must, as they say. Oh – BUT! But – but – BUT! I DID manage to snaffle a sugar-roasted pear pie with grated Gruyère cheese from Cosie's on the way back. I think the poor dear was a bit freaked when I knocked and ran, so to speak. She had to have a little sit down when she came back in and saw it gone, but I could hardly pay for it, could I? Well, I suppose I could have tried to conjure the money, thinking about it … Anyway, I made her some snow cats as a small thank you and put the Everlast enchantment on them. Neat spell, that. I left them sitting on her little porch at the back as she was mumbling to her moggy before I sneaked in. It was an emergency, though. I needed the pie as I knew it would keep the pair of them busy for a while when the time was right. I was sure you'd ask for me eventually … Though I was prepared to kick you repeatedly until you did if you'd still said nothing by dawn …"**_

_**Constance tried to focus her dimming vision on the spot in the corner, tightening the top of her dressing gown around her shivering body, her eyes still fixed to the swelling orb, now growing by the second and undulating as the shape changed like a giant soap bubble warped by a breeze. She finally made to speak to her visitor, but in her shock she had forgotten the vital need of all living creatures to breathe at regular intervals. The realisation of this somewhat important factor vaguely dawned as her suspended breath broke free just before she passed out and fell back with a soft thud.**_

_**An indistinct noise from inside the bulging glow, rather like the sound of someone slapping their hand to their forehead, was heard throughout the room; it was accompanied by a groan and followed shortly thereafter by an exasperated cry of "BLOODY TYPICAL!"**_

* * *

Herbert put his head in his hands dramatically.

"I cannot believe I'm losing to a fifteen-year-old …"

"You're letting me win!"

"I'm not, I swear. You're just too clever for me, madam."

Mildred grinned, taking another drink and turning her head back.

"She looks really serene, doesn't she?"

Herbert looked across to Constance for a few moments and made to nod but, listening more intently, his eyes then went to the machine. He shuffled back his chair, stood and walked around the bed.

"A little **too **serene, now you mention it …" he muttered under his breath, somewhat annoyed at himself for not noticing the slight change in audible rhythm.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mil. Nothing. But you hit the nail on the head there, I think."

"What do you mean?" she asked, putting down her drink and turning more fully towards Constance.

Herbert was fiddling with the blood pressure monitor, the cuff of which was continually wrapped around Constance's arm for easy monitoring.

"I thought so."

"What?"

"She's fainted in her sleep. The machine's set parameters wouldn't trigger for such a tiny drop without prior tachycardia to alert us, but her BP is a bit low and, with her slower heartbeat as well, I'd say she's actually unconscious at present."

"I-is she o-okay?" Mildred's voice had risen with her sudden unease. She stood up in alarm.

"Oh, she's fine, Mil. She's fine. Don't worry, poppet. Look **–** see **– **she's coming round a bit."

Constance was indeed opening her eyes, but she clearly wasn't seeing through them. No sooner had she blinked a few times her eyes closed again.

"Make that a prince **and** a bucket of water, Mil," Herbert said, smiling as he sat down again.

Mildred looked dubious.

"**Relax**, Mil. She's fine. Taking everything into consideration with her general condition, it isn't overly surprising. Just need to keep an eye on it, that's all. She's been far less tachycardic today, too, and less disturbed in her sleep. Perhaps, with the help of the medication, the potion's effects are finally wearing off, eh?" Herbert smiled reassuringly as he moved his chair slightly, leaned over and took Constance's chart to voice his clinical opinion in writing. He looked up as Mildred nodded and turned her attention back to Constance, squeezing her hand gently as she sat back down.

Herbert looked down again as he wrote up his notes. He **hoped **she was fine.

Mildred tucked up the sheet and blanket a little more around Constance, who appeared to be fast asleep again …

**_"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty …"_**

**_The words sounded far away as Constance gradually came to. For a moment, she was taken back in time to a familiarity of circumstance, awakening like she had so many times to that soft, gentle voice that used to rouse her with the initial delicacy of a pawing kitten, before then pouncing at full throttle and demanding her attention. This time, it remained gentle, and she felt a brief glow of warmth as shimmering bright light pierced her closed eyelids for a few seconds before fading to a mellower hue._**

**_"I think we might actually need a prince at this rate …" the voice continued, followed by a sigh. "Or a bucket of water," it said again, giggling._**

**_Constance forced her eyes to open and stay open, her body jerking slightly in the process as it was commanded to awaken, and jerking again with continuing shock as her vision focused._**

**_"And hello again, missy … Welcome back to the land of the – well … half living-dead … Hey, now THAT would make a good movie title …"_**

**_The glowing, semi-translucent form of Gabriella laughed softly, gliding over towards Constance; although she was walking, both dainty feet upon the ground, it was as if she was skating on ice, sliding across the floor silently._**

**_"Ta-da! I did it!" She twirled around._**

**_Constance breathed in sharply, her body rigid but still fortunately prostrate._**

**_"If you faint again I shall be forced to thwack you with my starry wand. Look at me and breathe, woman!"_**

**_Constance let out a gasp, her eyes wide in disbelief. _**

**_"That's right. And breathe in again … and out … and in … and out … That's it … Now, carry on like that and we'll be just fine and dandy."_**

**_"G-Gab-by …"_**

**_Gabriella stopped moving before the bed's edge at Constance's left, maintaining eye contact with Constance. She looked as radiant as the glistening, floaty, pastel-pink gown she was wearing. Her freckly skin was very pale, yet luminescent, and her red hair shining, tousled around her shoulders and down her back in loose ringlet curls, complimenting her rosy lips and gently blushed cheeks. Her eyes were vividly green – sparkling circles around her enlarged black pupils. Her head was adorned by a small diamond tiara and, upon her back, were two angular silvery wings the colour of the brightest night star. It was like each of her features had been emphasised to look their very best. She was mesmerising to behold._**

**_"Look …" Gabriella suddenly floated upwards, her wings batting together like a hummingbird's. "They work!"_**

**_Constance stared back, bewitched, her eyes unblinking._**

**_"You ought to blink once in a while, you know," Gabriella said as she floated back down gracefully. "It IS me, Bobbie. I'm very real." She lifted her right hand up and waved to reiterate the point; it seemed to glitter in the air, leaving a trail of light which faded a few seconds later, like a sparkler's echo. "Well – just about, anyway. Isn't my dress simply gorgeous!" She twirled around again theatrically, briefly revealing the vast netted underskirt of her ankle-length gown. "FINALLY got my dream shoes, too. See?" Gabriella pulled back a handful of her dress and lifted her leg, pointing downwards and grinning at the sequinned and rhinestone heeled red footwear. "Mum said I had to look my best when the time came, so she made sure of it! Good job, too! This little lot would have been a LOT of energy's worth on this side of the equation! Left me the triggered spell ready and waiting in a fairy box!"_**

**_Constance squeaked a sob as she scrambled up weakly, stumbling across the crumpled bedclothes as she reached out to clutch Gabriella's hand. Her fingers slipped straight through, illuminating her own flesh for a second as their digits made contact._**

**_"G-Gabby …" Tears were streaming down Constance's face as her reaching fingers opened and contracted around Gabriella's hand, each movement causing an involuntary shudder to creep up Constance's arm. _**

**_"Don't start, lady …" Gabriella whispered gently. "I didn't come to make you cry … Or faint, either, come to think of it. Heck – I managed both in ten minutes flat! Quick – someone call Guinness and get me a place in next year's book! I'm sure we can misplace the death certificate!"_**

**_A small whimper escaped Constance's mouth as she covered it with her trembling hands. Her turbulent emotions from only three days ago had risen and were crushing her aching chest. Only three days ago, Constance had retired to her room for the day, showered and proceeded to get ready for bed, as was usual. Upon doing up her nightgown buttons, she had felt the last lingering threads of Gabriella's Chameleon Spell disperse from the material. It didn't phase her logical mind: generally, spells – especially if they were very simplistic ones – only lasted as long as the power behind them; some only minutes; others, theoretically, for eternity. She waved her hand to recast where the spell left off, using her photographic memory and thinking nothing of it – after all, it had been quite some months. It was then she espied flickering movement and noticed a small bluebird sitting outside her windowsill on top of the iced-up thick snow: a bluebird – in England – in bitter January. At this, Constance had frozen, her fingers paused on the last button. She had then watched as the bird flew upwards and tapped on the window with its beak relentlessly. Daring not to move in case her legs wouldn't carry her, she had opened the window with a sharp jerk of her hand. The bird, clearly waiting, then flew into her room and hovered, looking for a suitable landing place. Constance had opened her shaky palm and onto it the bird came to rest, dropping from its beak a small silver brooch in the shape of a G. It then looked directly at her for a few seconds before vanishing, leaving the quiet tune of musical birdsong in its wake. Constance could only suppress a devastated scream as her heart shattered inside her and she dropped to her knees and collapsed forwards to the ground, her limbs tucked in tightly beneath her and fists clenched as her sobs grew into a muffled howl. Gabriella's letter had indeed arrived, just like she said it would, and Constance knew her best and most treasured friend was gone from the world. _**

**_And in the hours that followed, Constance became weaker and weaker as her body projected her pain outwards repeatedly, until finally she crawled into bed, and the following day she did not leave it._**

**_Gabriella cleared her throat and folded her arms._**

**_"Let me guess: you're now thinking back to my little messenger's arrival, yes? I tried to enchant him to wink, you know, but he was having none of it. Closest I could get was a long look and a partial tweeted rendition of 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life'._**

**_Constance blinked, nodding slightly, hot tears cascading down her white cheeks from her red-encircled eyes._**

**_Gabriella put her head in her hands. "Come on, Bobbie. Surely you must have known? I gave you enough warning …"_**

**_Constance swallowed, trying to speak and breaking down before she could get a word out._**

**_"Apparently not quite enough, then?" Gabriella sighed. "Come on, budge up. They won't be back for a bit – they've just found the pie by the feel of it … Yep … And Amelia's now convincing Davina no one will miss it from the larder. That lady has serious cheese issues …"_**

**_Constance didn't even raise her eyebrows at Gabriella's still-apparent intuition._**

**_Gabriella gracefully placed herself onto the bed, folding her legs and curling up beside Constance. Constance shuffled across to give her more room automatically, barely registering that her best friend's spirit didn't technically need space to manoeuvre. The cats remained where they were, not deigning to move an inch._**

**_"How are you feeling?" Gabriella said, cocking her head from side to side and furrowing her brow, examining her. "I was getting a bit worried, you know – you were only supposed to be out of it several hours, madam, not two bloody days in a virtual coma! Mind, I suppose some of that was my fault. I'm thinking now I should have forewarned you a bit more."_**

**_Constance remained mute, stunned into silence. She was now crouched next to Gabriella – and trembling. But not with fear – she could never be scared of her; she was trembling with all-engulfing pain surrounding her, heart and soul._**

**_"Please, Bobbie, don't cry." Gabriella reached out to touch Constance's arm, causing an instant shiver as her hand melted through. "I'm sorry … I know – it takes some getting used to. Mum used to forewarn me to have a hot-water bottle handy when she came." She laughed, quietly, reaching to stroke Davina's cat; the cat continued to purr, evidently unphased by the tingling coolness from Gabriella's fingertips half-entering its body._**

**_"Y-you … y-you …" Constance couldn't speak. She wanted to say so many things; ask so many things, but her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth, and the words just wouldn't come out._**

**_"Don't you dare keel on me AGAIN, lady. Not yet, anyway! – I didn't risk seeing you for you to spend our entire conversation swooning! – although you do look the part, it must be said … Look!" Gabriella said, vigorously extending her hands and waving them above her head. "I'm fine! I'm better than fine!" She then folded them. "All right, so I'm a bit see-through – but as long as I don't have a VPL, that's okay, too! AND … look who's here to see you …"_**

**_Gabriella clicked her fingers and a small bat appeared, flying above her left shoulder, weighed down slightly by the sparkling yellow rose it was carrying in its mouth. _**

**_"'Can't take it with you'? PAH! You wanna bet?!"_**

**_Constance looked astonished as the bat flew directly into her lap and dropped the rose into her hand._**

**_"H-Hope … A-and … my r-rose … Y-you … k-kept it …"_**

**_"Of course I did. And I intend to plant it when I get to where I'm going and have a million more of them! Hope likes that idea, don't you, Hope?"_**

**_Constance shook her head back to the present question in hand, unable to take her eyes off Gabriella, now absentmindedly stroking the bat's fuzzy ears, her fingers passing straight through its cool head._**

**_"And you kept my necklace close to hand, I see …" Gabriella said, eyeing the slight show of the metal chain beneath Constance's dressing gown around her neck._**

**_Constance swallowed. "But you … you didn't … you didn't …"_**

**_"I know. I know. I probably should have told you, but what would you have done if I had?"_**

**_Constance sniffed, croaking a high-pitched, "H-helped …"_**

**_"Precisely. And what if it had triggered this there and then?" _**

**_Constance half-shrugged her shoulders, looking down at Gabriella's tiny hand, now settled palm-up on the bed, longing so much to hold it and grip it tightly within her own. She focused in on the fine markings on her lucid skin, miraculously more defined than they had ever been when she was alive. She narrowed her eyes closer, trying to see more clearly in the insufficient light, noticing something she had never fully registered before._**

**_"It had to be this way, don't you see? And you did help – it wouldn't have been as easy if you hadn't aided me that night: by saving me you inadvertently eased everything else for a bit, and I'd have been in much more pain and less able to engineer things if you hadn't. You gave me extra time in the end, Bobbie, and that was all I needed; as long as I got you out – and safely – that was it. Done and dusted … and time for me to go. I've my old dancing teacher waiting for me, you know!"_**

**_Constance swallowed. "That night was my f-fault in the f-first place … If I h-had just looked into t-their i-intentions …"_**

**_Gabriella shook her head. "We were both distracted that night, Bobbie. I didn't sense anything until too late, either. It was no one's fault. I think it's clear now it was meant to be. Besides, I understand they ended up 'out of action' for some considerable time after your adjustments to their trousers …" She laughed briefly._**

**_Constance cleared her throat. "T-the … the b-brooch … It didn't j-just stand for Gabriella, d-did it?"_**

**_Gabriella smiled kindly. "Why do you think I was called a name beginning with G?"_**

**_Constance stifled a cry as the words left Gabriella's mouth, wanting to break down and throw her arms around her; to touch her just once more. The hints; all those hints were now clear. Why hadn't she fully appreciated what they meant at the time? Why didn't it occur to her? The evidence had been plain to see, yet she hadn't seen it. Suddenly she felt the overwhelming heat of anger swell up within her._**

**_"B-but … you … You lied to me …"_**

**_Gabriella let out a resigned breath. "No, I didn't lie, I just didn't tell you what you were not supposed to know. I knew for certain what you had done to help the second I touched my shrunken handbag and, by then, I knew you had seen what had been in it. I wonder if the surgery ever figured out how their morphine supply was going down …?"_**

**_Constance sniffed, blinking away tears at the memory._**

**_"You were dying …"_**

**_"Well, my body was. But I'm still here, aren't I?!" Gabriella waved both hands again and grinned, but Constance didn't reciprocate. Instead she sighed deeply, closing her eyes. _**

**_"I suppose you did it to protect me?"_**

**_"You know why I did it, Bobbie. I know you can see into my mind; into my soul; see my past; my actions. And why things happened the way they did. And I know you will feel guilty no matter how much I tell you it was my choice; my destiny; my reason for living. It was to help you. And once I'd done that, it was time for me to go. I made the decision, Bobbie, because, in the grand scheme of things, you were more important; what you have to give; what you have to do; the reason for YOUR life has yet to fully come, but it will. And when it does, you have to be ready, and for you to be ready you had to be free. Free – and alive. It's all about YOU, Bobbie. It's always been for you, because it's you who has the task ahead."_**

**_"But WHY didn't you fight?! Why didn't you fight for ME?!"_**

**_"I did fight. I fought for YOU. For YOU to survive, Bobbie." _**

**_Constance blinked, droplets trickling endlessly down her face, and said, quietly, more to herself than Gabriella, "But I didn't ask you to … And you're dead because of me …"_**

**_"No, I'm not. I'm dead because I didn't have any reason to remain. When you are still alive, you still have a reason to be; only when your tasks are completed, and you've gone as far as you can go while on earth, are you truly ready to leave. There is no fault, Bobbie. This was how it was meant to be …" Gabriella straightened up a little and leaned in closer. "I needed to make sure you came through all right – and you have. You'll be pretty exhausted and sleepy for a few days, though, but it won't hurt you. If I know you, you could use a bloody good rest!"_**

**_Constance gave a small smile and laugh, her anger melting as Gabriella flicked her wings back and forth, miming polishing her tiara, but her smile became tinged with sadness as she finally understood. _**

**_"You're actually happy, aren't you?"_**

**_"Of course I'm happy! I've got Ruby Slippers!"_**

**_Constance blinked and released several more tears, wiping her face and streaming nose with the back of her hand._**

**_"But I'm sad to leave, and I wish I could have stayed to do certain things with certain people, but I'm happy, yes. Plus, at least I never got wrinkles!"_**

**_Constance shook her head and Gabriella laughed, conjuring a few tissues for Constance to use._**

**_"What? It's a valid concern!"_**

**_"Did you always know?" Constance said quietly._**

**_Gabriella smiled softly. "No, not always. At least not in so many words. I knew I'd die young, but I wasn't sure how or why at the beginning, though I never saw myself as getting old – it just wasn't me, and I wasn't meant to live for me – I've always been here for others. Even my teaching degree came from knowing I was supposed to meet someone who needed my help at the College. Mum told me that before she died because she knew I was still planning for the stage and I needed that push towards the alternative because I had a job to do, and that job was you. I had to teach you how to fight back. And I knew, once we'd really connected after our first meeting and into our friendship, what my task was, and how your input into my life would ultimately be the crux of how mine would reach its peak and end its earthly journey. My life was not in vain, Bobbie. I left my legacy – YOU. YOU are the one who will carry my memory, and you are the one who has to stay to do what you are supposed to. I've done my task. Now you must continue without me."_**

**_Constance, who had been sitting very quietly, was now biting her trembling lip as her tears restarted. She struggled to speak, her voice choked and chest aching._**

_**"I … I c-can't … What am I s-supposed to do n-now? How I am supposed to live when … I … I t-thought I was going to a new life but … but I've spent so long just existing I've forgotten what being alive feels like. How can I be all I can be without you? I thought I could but … I … I c-can't …"**_

_**"Yes, you can. You must. It is not only your life that depends on it, but your soul – and theirs. You have to save those gone – and those to come. It has to be you, Bobbie. That's why you were born … Bobbie … my darling Bobbie … You've subsisted with a façade of life since you were a child, clinging to whatever was enough to keep you barely surviving through the motions of being physically alive. You are no longer a child, and now you have to learn to live again. And you haven't a choice – you have to. You've a job to do. And more than one, at that. You'll be deputy here one day."**_

**_Constance raised her eyebrows incredulously._**

**_"Oh, don't look so surprised. Mum figured out what Amelia needed and we got you this far, but the rest is up to you. As for the other job, that will come in time."_**

**_"It's ridiculous. When you think of what he could do … What he's capable of … Out there … roaming … Yet I'm left to sort the … the FUCKING puzzle on my own! My life can be no more than existence because he's still out there … And they … they are still out there … I've … Gabby, all I've done is go from one blasted cage to another! And what's worse is I knew that would always be the case! How can I even dare to hope things will simply 'work themselves out'? Every smile I've allowed has been tainted with a known truth behind it; every time I feel anything close to happiness it's tarnished with that knowledge that, once day, he'll find me."_**

**_Gabriella leaned forwards, eyeline to eyeline. _**

**_"Yes, he will. But trust me: you'll be more than ready for him."_**

**_"And what if I can't? What if I fail? What then for my family? For all of us down my line of descent? Would it not just be easier to give up and let someone else deal with him? You know as well as I do another will come if I'm not here. All I have to do is make sure she has all the information she needs, and that will be done within the week now. I'm not strictly necessary. I'm … not really even needed now … I could just leave …"_**

**_"But you won't, will you?"_**

**_Constance closed her eyes._**

**_"I know you won't. Because I know YOU. Inside and out. There isn't anything I don't know about you, and I know you've already spent years plotting various ways to vanquish him when the time comes. Say, do you want to have my cuticle scissors to finish the job?"_**

**_Constance opened her eyes and couldn't help but release a guffaw of laughter. Gabriella playfully made emasculation motions with her hands._**

**_"Well, they haven't said you CAN'T use additional methods, have they?" Gabriella grinned, briefly flicking her eyes upwards. "Oh, talking of methods, I take it they needed to be told about the oh-so-easy photographic memory technique when it came to your parting spell?"_**

**_Constance snorted once more. "Not quite; I didn't want to risk going into detail, but I did hint that I expected them to have figured it out. Just out of pure amusement."_**

**_"You'd think, with the level of intelligence between them, they would have tried it first!"_**

**_"Hmm … The Compendium is still at their disposal, though. She hid it well after … after that day. But I suspect they kicked themselves over a lot of things when I left them for good …"_**

**_"I bet it was rather spectacularly satisfying …"_**

**_Constance sighed. "It was. And yet it hurt me. And … reminded me I was on my own …"_**

_**Gabriella smiled. "But that's the point, my darling. You have to fly on your own now, Bobbie. It's fated. Destiny. Your whole purpose. Life is a journey, not a race or competition. And only when we ask questions do we follow our destiny in looking for the answers. When you look into a person's past, that alone tells the story of their future. Remember that you cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness."**_

_**"Easy for you to say. You're a stronger psychic than I ever was. You still are. You've always known what was coming … even … even your death."**_

**_Gabriella shuffled a little closer._**

**_"Yes, because I accepted death the day I was born as the next chapter in an everlasting circle. Death is the end to those who see it as their enemy, and they live life ever striving to avoid it, else there are so many lives wasted by those always assuming they have more time. Embrace death and you embrace life. And you have to believe in your abilities in order to gain from your earthly time the very best you can. To teach those following in your footsteps and create a legacy worth leaving behind when you move on to the next chapter."_**

**_Constance seemed to be holding her breath. Her eyes were closed again, as if she was trying to pause the moment in time._**

**_"You have to believe you can do something before you have a chance of being successful at it. Believe in yourself, Bobbie. Believe in your power. Believe in your soul, for it's that which shall save you. It may be needed to save all of us. They will only intervene if they have to – and if they do, you know what the price will be. You MUST believe in the energy – in the magic that brought you to existence. Our existence IS magic. Why else do you think it coined its name? And only with magic is ANYTHING possible! Even … a reversal of fortune …"_**

**_Constance blinked, twice, her brain rapidly digesting Gabriella's words._**

**_"What did you just …? What do you mean? What do you know, Gabby?"_**

**_Gabriella smiled. "More than my wings' worth."_**

**_"Gabby … Do you know where he is?"_**

**_Gabriella was looking around and seemingly listening to the silence of the room._**

**_"What?"_**

**_"Nothing … I think …"_**

**_"What's going on, Gab?"_**

**_Gabriella met her eyeline then flicked her eyes upwards._**

**_Constance frowned, then it dawned._**

**_"Are we being watched?" she whispered, trying not to make it obvious she was searching the room._**

**_Gabriella nodded ever so slightly._**

**_Constance's eyes widened and her pupils grew even larger, just like a frightened cat's._**

**_"Gabby … What have you done?"_**

**_Gabriella allowed a small smile to escape her lips while still listening. She paused for a few more seconds, then spoke in a hushed voice._**

**_"I HAD to see you, Bobbie. I wasn't going to; I was just going to hang around and watch, but you … you were so much more distressed than I thought you'd be and … I thought you needed …" her voice lowered further as she continued keep her ears open for further evidence of an interruption. "You needed help."_**

**_Constance swallowed, telepathically saying, "Why don't you talk this way?"_**

**_Gabriella smirked, replying, "Because they can hear my thoughts, too. I've had a mental block to stop them prying too much into my plans but it's pretty much thinned out now."_**

**_Constance made to touch Gabriella, forgetting, for a moment, she couldn't._**

**_"I'm sorry," Constance said, aloud once again._**

**_Gabriella smiled. "It's all right. I saved what energy you gave me to try and stay as long as I could, but I knew you needed me. You needed what I have. What they won't tell you." She quickly scanned the room again, making sure they were still completely alone._**

**_Constance finally began to catch on to Gabriella's cryptic wording._**

**_"Have you a location, Gabby?"_**

**_Gabriella shook her head. "I wish I did, Bobbie. But I know what will help you in your future. Help both you and –"_**

**_Gabriella didn't have time to say another word before she suddenly sat fully erect and cursed. "Shit. Damn it! Damn it! They're coming. I bet the Junior couldn't hold them off any longer. I KNEW the second I mentioned 'them' more than once they'd start to hone in on us!"_**

**_Constance gasped as Gabriella began to flicker like a gas flame splashed with water._**

**_"They're taking you, aren't they?!"_**

**_Gabriella sighed as the flickering stopped. "Yep. And the nearest station is a bit far for me to nip back afterwards this time, Bobbie."_**

**_"How long?"_**

**_"Less than a few minutes, I think." As she said this, Hope flew up towards Gabriella's shoulder. Constance watched as the tiny bat and yellow rose, both previously nestled in her lap, vanished. "They have to drain me completely first before they can take me. Oh, and Davina probably won't ask about the door opening and closing, but it was me, in case you were wondering. Look: I know you're really angry with her now, but you won't be eventually. She could be a mother to you, if you'd let her …"_**

**_Constance snorted before she could stop herself._**

**_"She could, Bobbie. Trust me on that. Let her into your heart one day, Bobbie. You let me in, and I will never leave –" Gabriella stopped as her body began to flicker once more. She paused as it settled again. "Bobbie, one day, you'll know why she's like she is – and why I was like I was. And she'll know why you are like you are. You're not that unalike, you know. You're joined by very common grou—" Gabriella cut off as the flickering began again._**

**_"Oh, Gabby, I've missed you so much."_**

**_"Not half as much as I've missed you … And not as much as I will continue to miss you …"_**

**_Constance's face crumpled. "I'm not ready … I'm not r-ready t-to let you g-go …"_**

**_"You'll never be ready, Bobbie. No one is ever ready to let go forever. But this isn't forever. Just for a while. But it's time for me to go home. And when your time comes, you'll join me."_**

**_"Please don't leave me … Please, Gabby … Can't we plead with them not to take you? Please don't go …"_**

**_Gabriella shook her head. "Listen, I haven't much time left now and the minute I've done it will be a matter of seconds. When I energise, listen to all I have to say, because once I start talking about them properly they will make sure I cross into the Beyond whether it causes damage or not, so make sure you listen!"_**

**_"But … Gabby …"_**

**_"If I'd said earlier they'd have swooped in before now. I wanted some decent time with you but I was relying on the Junior to hold them off a bit longer. I bet their wings are being clipped as I speak."_**

**_Gabriella flickered again, disappearing for a split second before she was back._**

**_Constance shook her head. "N-no … n-not yet … p-please … not y-yet …"_**

**_Gabriella blinked, tears dripping down her face. "True friends never leave your heart, even if they have left your life. Don't ever release the past, Bobbie: it is the past that makes you who you are – and will get you through the future."_**

**_Constance couldn't suppress it any longer; her bubbling cries broke free as she began to sob profusely, her arms clutched around her own thin frame as she screwed her eyes tightly shut and pulled her head into her chest: if this was a dream – a nightmare – she wanted to wake up before it became any worse – she had lost her once, and she couldn't go through it again._**

**_Gabriella closed her eyes, making her final choice. She wrapped her hands around Constance's upper arms, but this time she didn't go through. Gabriella began to turn brighter – and solidify._**

**_Constance felt the warming change on her cold skin and raised her bowed head, now alert and breathing fast as she gulped the thickly scented air around her; air filled with the smell of flowers and glowing like thousands of fireflies dancing in the dark._**

**_Gabriella smiled again. She pulled Constance into her embrace, each of them head beside head and bodies so close not even a drop of water could have possibly filtered between them. _**

**_"It's all about the poppies, Bobbie. Poppies heal wounds; souls heal hearts. Make use of the poppies, Bobbie. They will save you both when the time comes."_**

**_Constance jumped as Gabriella suddenly jerked as a blast of pure white light flowed through her incandescent body._**

**_Gabriella laughed. "Oh, yes, they heard that! Don't worry, I'll deal with them. I wasn't letting you continue with nothing to go o—"_**

**_Another blast of light shot through her form as her contact with Constance was severed. Gabriella's body became transparent once more and Constance fell forwards slightly as the bond between their bodies broke._**

**_Gabriella grimaced, her face a picture of concentration, and began to solidify again. "T-this is the l-last of it, Bobbie …" she said, her voice full of determination, "then I'll be completely drained. You must PROMISE me to fight! Fight until the end for me! I've lived my destiny. Now, it's your turn …"_**

**_Constance shuddered, shaking her head._**

**_"Bobbie, I know you – you won't give up without fighting. You've come this far – now you have to keep going a little further. Promise me, Bobbie. You can do this – you were born to do this! Now promise me!"_**

**_Constance didn't reply aloud, but Gabriella heard it. She leaned forwards and kissed Constance on the forehead, dipping her head to meet her eyes and resting their skulls together, holding her hands. _**

**_"Be strong. Be careful. And I'll see you when I see you – for I WILL see you again. I promise you. I'll be waiting. You let me into your heart, Bobbie, and I will never leave it …"_**

**_Constance threw herself into her friend's embrace, clinging onto her with all her might, her heaving sobs ringing around the room as Gabriella ran her fingers through Constance's long hair, shushing her through her teeth. All too soon, Gabriella's form began to fade in solidity and colour, becoming thinner and thinner, dimmer and dimmer. She kissed Constance once more, her wispy hand making to wipe the tears from Constance's face. Gabriella smiled one last time and mouthed, "I love you", before she vanished completely, and Constance was left clutching her own body once again, and the room, no longer lit from Gabriella's spirit and the night sky, was dark. The curtains were drawn and the cats had departed through the now-open door, both on a parting requested mission to fetch their owners. Constance was alone, with nothing but an echo of words in her ears until, eventually, they were gone, too._**

**_Constance stayed like that, kneeling back on her heels amongst the untidy bedclothes, her fingers gripping and arms clutched tightly against herself, and eyes open and staring into the blackness. Her cheeks were cold where her tears had been upon her face, but she barely acknowledged her skin tightening as they dried._**

**_She didn't hear the door creak the rest of the way open behind her and the lantern being lit a short time later. She didn't hear Amelia and Davina calling out to her cautiously as they circled the bed, Davina berating herself for leaving her alone and Amelia querying calling out an emergency doctor, both feeling her forehead and gently unpinning her stiff, trembling limbs, carefully lowering her back into the bed and covering her up, their worried voices and concerned faces hovering over her unfocused eyes as they tried to catch her attention. _**

**_Constance didn't speak or move; she just lay, limp, sapped of her energy and emotionally numb, oblivious to her colleagues at either side of her, both rubbing her icy hands, no longer talking to her but instead about her._**

**_Eventually, her exhausted eyes closed without her being aware of it, and she drifted away. Away from the anxiously clucking pair beside her and their equally vigilant familiars; away from her room, her things, and Cackle's, going instead into her dreams. Before long, the image of Gabriella's delicate little hand came into focus, held securely within her own. Constance traced the lines within Gabriella's left palm, running her finger over one particular place, where Gabriella's lifeline should have been, but never was._**

**_Constance had only ever heard Gabriella say once that she was already 'halfway there', and only now did she know what she truly meant. Gabriella had been ready to leave for a long time. And now, her earthbound journey had been completed, but Constance's was only just beginning._**

**_The following day, Constance eventually awoke, Amelia by her side, asleep in the chair beside her. Looking at her employer – and friend – Constance felt clarity of mind for the first time in four days. And with that waking she made a decision: never again would she let anyone in so close, for if she lost them – or worse, allowed them to become lost – the pain would be too great. Already engulfed with guilt, anger, bitterness and overwhelming despair, the thought of losing someone else she loved was too big a burden to bear ever again._**

**_And so Constance became impenetrable to everyone around her; she formed a barricade so strong, she knew that if anyone ever broke through it, her fear of losing them – hurting them – would consume her beyond measure. Her love for the school, its staff and pupils could be controlled; it had to be controlled – and with absolute reticence at all times. She mustn't let them in. Her childhood had been destroyed by her aunts' quest for perfection – and perfectionism should have been the last thing Constance wanted to submerge herself into; an impossible task, for there would always be flaws. But Constance knew she was ultimately too broken to fix, and, as time would move on, she would begin to see, against her better judgement, that while pure vanity was a sin of the most basic level of morality, the ability to appear perfect outside would serve to mask all the imperfections inside. She didn't want to be like them, but some things she couldn't change; to distance herself completely from the methods drilled into her psyche and etched into her soul was a task she couldn't face, for who was she if not the woman they had created? What would she be left with? The answer was nothing. She would be lost. She couldn't afford to become lost. There was too much at stake. But she vowed, instead of enforcing her methods, she would nurture and encourage the expansion of her pupils' minds and power, and make sure they fulfilled their potential for the greater good. She would do her job. And in doing so she would hide the scars of her past, and make her shell inaccessible. For Constance, it was better to be alone – for without love, there can be no pain. And if being this perfect creature, who was as stoic and emotionless as a statue, was the way to achieve it, then so be it._**

**_Henceforth, after that night, her colleagues would see their newly employed teacher change from the slip of a girl she was when she arrived to the woman who could break a person with a single glare. _**

**_Amelia would ironically become the mother figure that Gabriella so wanted Constance to allow Davina to become in her stead; Gabriella had had her own reasons, reasons that Constance wouldn't discover until a long time later, and by then her affections had been captured by another. Constance would never directly tell Amelia of her love towards her; of her dependency on that love. But Amelia would come to know it was there, nonetheless. And that same love would also extend, eventually, beyond the headmistress, to the person who needed it in the form of forgiveness. Gabriella knew that, one day, it would happen. But that merciful extension of friendship did not occur until a snow-filled night several months before Cackle's was to change forever, when Constance finally saw a reflection of someone she knew very well indeed. That reflection would prove to be a turning point. It wouldn't happen overnight – some things were destined to remain the same, but mutual respect was a solid starting point to base any clean slate of friendship upon._**

**_But, for the present, before the fated events would come to pass, Constance had to stay; she knew that; she needed to live a life that was more than existence because, ultimately, she had a job to do; a job so important it was beyond any that had come before to any creature in existence past. _**

**_Fate's pathway would determine her future, but she would journey towards it on her terms, and no one else's._**

* * *

"I refuse to accept 'Snotgobble' as a word!"

"I'm telling you it **does **exist! It's a perfectly respectable English word and a herb we use in potions," Mildred added, her face a picture of complete confidence.

"Well, I've never come across it, and I'm supposed to be trained in potion ingredients!"

"Well, to be fair, it isn't really used for anything much but making whipped cream …"

"Oh, well, that explains it!" Herbert said theatrically. "You see, I'm a black coffee man, myself. Decaf, of course. No cream, and only five sugars on night shifts, but I'm allowed three more if pulling a double."

Mildred giggled, turning the board back to Herbert. "I'd better not sing the accompanying song. Mind you, it might wake her up …"

Herbert chuckled, sighing exhaustedly and looking at his letters **–** which seemed to be moving of their own accord. He blinked a couple of times then looked up to see two glassy, sleepy-looking eyes watching the pair, and a very small smile just lingering on her slightly trembling lips.

"No need, Mil. Someone is either awake or has conjured a pair of those fake-eyes glasses."

Mildred immediately got up to fetch Constance a fresh drink. Herbert smiled gently at Constance, who quickly wiped her eyes and smiled wider so Mildred didn't see how upset she was.

Herbert leaned back and folded his arms, making a mind to try and distract Constance from whatever painful subject was running through her thoughts, watching as she gratefully sipped a good few mouthfuls through the offered straw.

"So, a snotgobble, then, Constance? Presumably Miss Hubble here isn't cheating and I am, in fact, losing by over a hundred points?"

Constance raised an eyebrow, then casually wiggled her fingers. Herbert watched as his letters began to move with more force this time and arranged themselves on the board, placing his new seven-letter word beneath another.

Herbert burst out laughing with a snort, marking up his excessively pleasing resulting score.

Mildred put the glass down and spun the board to face her.

"_Perfectionists_!" Mildred looked at the pair, determining it takes one to know one, then spotted Herbert's new score and slumped down in defeat with a groan. Her winning streak of almost three games in a row was about to be sorely tested. She then looked up and smiled sweetly. "We did say best out of three, right?" she said innocently, knowing full well if they called it a day at three games she had still beat him overall.

Herbert folded his arms. "Oh, my memory must be going. I thought it was best out of five?"

Mildred slapped her hand to her forehead as Herbert set off into a round of snorting, but considered all was not lost as she espied Constance floating a bunch of letters from the bag towards her tray, surreptitiously winking at her with a knowing look on her face.

* * *

"Do you fancy another fly around tomorrow?"

Ethel was sitting on Enid's chair, staring out of the open shutters of her window into the oncoming night. The usual trio were finally together again, having managed to shake off their appeased friends for the first time since breakfast. It was not long after supper; fortunately, Mrs Tapioca had taken the hint and not included eggs in their evening dish, much to the relief of Enid.

"What do you think about, um, flying to the hospital?" Enid proposed under her breath. She was looking down studiously as she set about fixing the scratched-out hole in her cat basket.

"She'll kill us!" Maud gasped, lying on Enid's bed with her feet up against the wall and massaging her skull, heavy with the pressures of diplomacy that had been put upon her during the afternoon.

Enid looked up and grinned. "HB or Miss Cackle?"

"Both!" Maud laughed. "Not to mention the rest of them. Anyway, how would we even find it?"

Ethel turned her head. "Um … actually, we **could** 'borrow' Miss Cackle's broomstick and copy the flight plan from it. I heard her telling Miss Drill the other day about how she'd magically plotted the journey into it …"

Enid cleared her throat, sticking the final piece of super-strength tape onto her basket, having stuck masses on the inside as well as out. "That settles it, then! Tomorrow afternoon we'll leave, say about half one? And we ought to take her some fruit or something. Hospital food sucks."

The other two nodded, and Enid smiled, then stood up and called Teaser over before picking him up and gently but firmly bundling him into the basket, picking it up into the air. As she expected, he went slightly berserk when he realised he couldn't get out of the closed door and began scratching and meowing furiously, but the tape stuck fast when he tried to unpick it.

"Result!"

The other two girls looked at her puzzled.

Maud's head was still technically upside-down as she tipped her neck back to see. "Care to explain?"

Enid lowered the basket and released the disgruntled cat. He shook himself and jumped onto the bed and then onto the wardrobe, looking daggers at Enid in hissed annoyance.

"I'm sorry, Teaser, but I had to make sure it was safe to use." Enid looked at the other two. "Um … I thought we might take Morgana to see her. Maybe it will help recover sooner … and Morgana hasn't exactly been happy without her here, has she?"

Enid looked slightly bashful; she knew they wouldn't exactly expect her to be so attentive and thoughtful towards Miss Hardbroom, given the amount of bitching she had done in the past. But that was before.

Maud pulled down her legs, turned over and sat herself up, feeling consequently woozy from her unorthodox position. "I think that's a really lovely idea, Enid," she said, smiling and massaging her neck.

Ethel nodded, bending to stroke her own cat, who had followed her into Enid's room and was purring around her legs.

"But you could have just borrowed one of our baskets, you know," Maud said, laughing and paying attention to her feline, who had emerged from under the bed, bringing with her one of Teaser's rubber balls.

Enid groaned. "I didn't think of that!" She tucked the basket back in the corner of the room.

"I take it Teaser really doesn't like travelling?" Maud asked, throwing the ball for Midnight.

"What gave it away?" Enid rolled her eyes. "It's the third bloody basket he's managed to rip through, but the tape will last a while until I can get a new one."

"Well, for safety's sake, maybe we ought to use mine," Maud said decisively. "It is Morgana, after all. We need to make sure she's safe, although she'd probably sit perfectly on the broom."

Enid nodded. "Fair enough, but it needed fixing, anyway." _And she wouldn't last long with Fenny's Flytrap Spell on the brooms … _Enid thought, wondering how precisely to gain said spell without arousing the suspicion of the school's equivalent to Holmes and Watson.

"Enid, how exactly will we get past the hospital staff?" Ethel asked, holding Nightstar and pointedly checking the fidgeting creature's fur for any unwanted inhabitants. She usually checked once a week and had only just remembered she hadn't done so since before that night.

"Never fear, I've thought of that, too."

"So all set, then?" Maud said, straightening out Enid's rumpled bed. "And those flowers are still under the Everlast enchantment, aren't they? We have to take them to her."

Enid nodded. "As far as I know. I presume they will allow them; some hospitals don't."

Maud narrowed her eyes for a split second, wondering that herself now Enid had mentioned it, as Ethel cleared her throat and spoke.

"Erm, what about Drusilla and the others? If we suddenly vanish, they will get all moody again, won't they?"

"Not if we tell them we're going to collect supplies for Fen and Gris's latest endeavours; Bat and Drill won't be any the wiser and if they want to come then they will just assume we are elsewhere gathering stuff if we all split up around the castle."

"Good idea, Enid, but still makes me feel awful that we have to lie to them. Again."

"I know, Maud, but needs must, at least until we can talk to Mil and HB properly, as I bet they don't want anyone knowing what really happened."

Ethel shook her head. "I doubt it. I doubt any of them will want what we know getting out."

"Enid … do you think Mil … Do you think she's … I don't know. For her to be away this long, do you think there is something they aren't telling us?" Maud said slowly, looking first at Enid then Ethel.

Enid slumped down on the floor, deciding whether she could **–** or should **–** speak. Very quickly, she realised she had to say something, because maybe they had answers she didn't. It wasn't as though she couldn't trust them.

"I … I overheard something the other morning …"

Maud and Ethel turned their attention to Enid. Enid told them of the conversation she had listened in on between Imogen and Davina.

After about five minutes, Ethel came across from the window and crouched beside Enid, Maud joining them, as all three cats took their chance to pounce and curl up on the bed.

"I … I could be wrong …" Ethel began, "but that kind of magic … it's … it's unheard of. I thought the book was something Miss Hardbroom had set up. I didn't realise Mildred was actually conjuring the spells herself."

"Neither did I," Enid said, Maud nodding in concurrence.

Enid sighed. "Cocoa, anyone?"

"Yes, please," Ethel said, and Enid grinned in reply.

Maud nodded, hoping for a good night's sleep on every count. "And how do we go about getting everyone to sign a card or something for her without them suspecting what we are up to?"

Enid put her hands together, saint-like. "Oh, we fib a little bit …"

"What's new!" Maud and Ethel replied, laughing together.

* * *

Imogen and Davina were curled up on Imogen's bed, snuggled into her squashy pillows **– **one of which was the shape of a football and decorated as such with the traditional black-and-white joined pentagons **–** and each holding a glass of red wine in their hands. Davina's drink was watered down with homemade algae cordial. Imogen had graciously refused the 'mixer' with thanks.

"Feeling more relaxed?"

Imogen had a large gulp of her drink and smiled, offering Davina a chocolate from Serge's latest 'love basket' he'd sent.

"Mmm … much better, thank you." Davina peered into the box, hand hovering, and finally selected a mint cream swirl. Imogen sniggered as her delicate hand quickly returned for the second. Both were wearing their pyjamas and both unwinding from another trying day.

The older woman leaned back and gazed around her colleague's room; it was the same as the last time she had seen it. Large posters adorned the walls, featuring Imogen's favourite athletes, including one of an extremely tall (and extremely good-looking) basketball player. Imogen basically had the same items of furniture which were in her own room, albeit plain pine and rather less messily covered, boasting only a few items and no 'dust-collectors', as Davina's mother would have called them. She didn't have a dressing table, though. Just a mirror on the wall next to her chest of drawers. Her bookcase was mostly filled with sports-related books, magazines and the odd music album. In the far corner, facing the window, was a silver and navy-blue exercise bike and six-piece set of multicoloured weights. And in her bathroom was a fascinating set of 'digital' scales, which Davina had tried three times, each time in a different position (including on one wobbly leg) to see if her weight changed.

"Do you actually use that, Imogen? You always seem to go out in any weather."

Imogen followed Davina's gaze to the bike. "Oh, yes. If the weather is impossible **–** heavy snow or the like **–** I can still do my daily routine without too much difficulty. I've a step set behind the door."

"We've plenty of steps in Cackle's, dear." Davina laughed.

"Yes, but I can hardly lift weights and do my step-ups on the staircases with the girls about. I need to keep my biceps in tone, too. A cold blast of water works wonders for the circulation after a good workout and hot shower."

"It's been a challenge this week just to keep that water hot!"

"Is the Replenishment Spell going to cause us any problems?"

"No, I wouldn't have thought so, considering the circumstances of its use. But it will be a relief to have Frank back soon and sorting the boiler properly. I can't see George returning myself."

"It will be a relief to have any normality back soon," Imogen said with a sigh. She had always had mixed feelings regarding Constance's presence in the Academy, and at one time would have been happy to see her go. It was an odd mixture: deep admiration mingled with jealousy at her magical talents and control of the girls, but continual annoyance at her outward contempt of her non-witch status and place within the Academy. Yet, despite being harsh, Constance at least received complete reverence from her pupils and even seemed to have them in awe of her as well as afraid at times. And while Constance had the ability to make Imogen question her own usefulness to the curriculum, which she defended wholeheartedly, she was admittedly curious as to what life with magic would be like, and always felt a pang of envy when Constance performed a magnificent spell in her presence. Regardless of the past, the future, she knew, would be very different. And after all that had happened, Imogen couldn't help but wonder what else there was to Constance's actions that night, and in the time preceding it. And, specifically, in the reasoning she feared so much for Imogen's life that she didn't even attempt to involve her before it was too late.

"You know, Davina, me and Constance have never seen eye-to-eye, but I would have never wished for anything bad to befall her. I wish … I know she's coming back to us, but I wish I'd got to know her better before."

"To be fair, she's always been pretty brisk, Imogen, and hard to get to know …" _Especially after that night __…_ she thought. "I have always thought she was hiding behind a shell. Nobody is born that steely and detached. They have to be **made** that way …"

Imogen swallowed her last mouthful and cleared her throat.

"I agree. I know it's probably none of our business, but … I wonder how she got those scars …"

Davina took a breath, slowly, and didn't answer, downing the remainder of her glass, as well. She was half tempted to tell Imogen why her cat allergy had disappeared to change the direction of the subject, for she knew she was unlikely to deter her from discussing the deputy head completely, as well as reassure her about Constance's true character. It was clear Imogen was regretting her many arguments with the often-impossible woman, but then so was Davina herself. Did she want to talk about this **– **or didn't she? She thought she did, yet, of late, every time she entered a conversation about Constance that wasn't about her status but about **her**, she felt regret halfway through **–** as if she was somehow betraying her.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, Davina." Imogen rubbed her eyes and leaned her head back. "We probably shouldn't even be talking about it. It's just … I would hate to think of her being tortured. I'm sure those marks on her chest were cigarette burns." She flinched slightly at the thought, remembering her grandfather's similar war wounds.

"Sometimes, when people are wounded deeply, they close themselves off from others. It … stops them having their heart broken again," Davina muttered softly.

Imogen looked at Davina's glazed eyes. She got the distinct impression Davina knew what she was talking about.

"Top up?" Imogen smiled, turning to her bedside table and reaching for the bottle of wine, accidentally knocking over her various bottles of multivitamins and minerals, which were standing beside her alarm clock in a neat line, in the process.

"Please, dear. And my cordial, too, please." Davina stretched out her arm as Imogen poured the burgundy liquid into the glass, adding Davina's 'mixer' in afterwards and turning to tidy up her fallen containers and pour her own refill. Davina stirred hers with her baton, pulled from her hair.

"Oh, it's not in its little **–** ah **–** bed tonight then, Davina?" Imogen grinned, slouching back.

"Oh, do shut up, Imogen. How the hell was I suppose to know what it was!"

Imogen took a large gulp of her fresh drink in an attempt to stifle her hysterics and coughed. "I know, I know, but the look on your face when I told you once you'd bought it …" She cracked out laughing again as Davina began to sip her drink, each sip lengthening in time as Imogen wiped tears from her face. "I don't suppose you've anyone in mind to actually wear it, have you, Davina?" she said with a wry smile. "It's a very fetching shade of pink."

Davina hiccupped as she swallowed, thinking about it for a moment and stretching her toes back and forth.

"Hmm … I always did have a thing for Cliff Richard, you know …"

Imogen spluttered her drink as she laughed and began humming the _Summer Holiday _tune.

A further three glasses later, Davina was clearly beginning to reveal the effects of the now-empty bottle's contents.

Imogen yawned and flexed her aching legs, sitting up and arching her back. "You've only had half a bottle. Just how much alcohol was in that cordial of yours?"

Davina shrugged and hiccupped. "Nun … Unless et femmented … Snot ssure, dearie … Iem speely …"

Imogen smiled and shook her head. "Come on, into my bed. I'll check Amelia's sorted the girls. You can stop in my room tonight **–** I've work I can do, anyway."

She peeled back the thick, spot-covered duvet, took Davina's glass and invited her to nestle beneath, figuring it would be somewhat more comfortable that her stationery cupboard, though Davina's bed didn't look uncomfortable earlier. She suspected she spent more time in the cupboard, however, judging by the times she'd been the first one in the staffroom and found the woman inside it, fast asleep and drooling on the workbooks.

Davina began to snore as Imogen tidied up their few things, turning out one of her two lit lanterns, before leaving the room. Davina was either being as deliberately cautious as Amelia, or she genuinely didn't know more than she had already said. Imogen wasn't sure which, but right now was too tired to care. But she knew she wouldn't manage any sleep. She never slept after wine. She continued her silent evening walk around the castle, thinking about many things, but mainly the woman she knew she could never think badly of again.

* * *

Amelia yawned and blinked as she heard the noise that had roused her again; it wasn't growing stronger **–** just more of the same. She lifted her head and heard it once more, now clearer as her left ear was open to the air. Plop. Pause. Plop. Pause. Plop. Pause. There it was again. She sat up and ran her hand back through her hair, forgetting she had put rollers in and consequently trapping her fingernail within one. Cursing, she flicked her wrist towards the bedside lantern and turned to face the light, squinting and wondering where the roof was leaking from **this** time. Blinking again as her eyes adjusted, she suddenly stopped, staring, one arm still raised and stuck.

Morgana was sitting, quite calmly, on Constance's bedside table, perched on a book and completely ignoring the open-mouthed headmistress as she continued to spoon herself a drink from Amelia's small water glass with her paw. Plop. Pause. Plop. Pause. Each time lifting up the droplets to her rough tongue and swallowing the moisture without a sound, thereafter diving in for more, as delicately as Amelia had seen Morgana's mistress sip from a glass.

"Well," she said softly. "I suppose that explains Constance's extra glass of water at night, now, doesn't it."

Amelia settled back into the pillows, detangling her hand as she did so and discarding a couple of pulled-out hairs over the side of the bed. Morgana finally deigned to look up, swishing her tongue around her mouth and jumping over to the bed. She nudged at the covers and indicated she wanted to go inside. Amelia duly lifted them and watched as Morgana disappeared.

The headmistress had been ready for settling down but had forgotten her glass of water, and on her way back from the kitchen had heard the animal crying. Not howling, just pitiful-sounding mews, and had gone in to comfort her, falling asleep on the bed in the process. It was evident Morgana was somewhat more settled with Amelia there, so she reasoned she might as well stop the night; Constance's bed would be refreshed before she came home, anyway. Feeling somewhat chilly, Amelia decided to join Morgana and got into Constance's bed. She lay for about thirty seconds, when …

"Er **–** **excuse** **me**! I beg your pardon **–** where **do **you think you are **going**?!"

Amelia's objections were ignored as Morgana forcibly settled herself into a ball rather high up between Amelia's legs.

Amelia blinked, astonished. Her past cats had **never **done **that**! She fidgeted slightly and the cat did not move. Resigned and chuckling to herself, she cast out the light. She was quite, quite certain Constance would only ever allow her cat to get in such close proximity of her person!

* * *

"Did you have another nightmare earlier?" Mildred asked timidly. Despite her cheery demeanour at the time, she had noticed the fresh tears in Constance's eyes that she had tried to conceal from her.

Constance took a slow, steady breath. "No … That one wasn't a nightmare, Mildred. When you have a nightmare you're desperate for it to end. Some dreams … Some … memories … you wish could continue forever …"

Mildred didn't say anything further. She knew exactly what Constance meant.

"Another drink?"

Constance nodded.

"Feeling a bit better?"

"I think so," she whispered as Mildred helped lift her up a little and gave her a sip of water.

"Have … have you stopped having … nightmares now?"

Constance looked at her; her expression was unreadable to Mildred. But after a few long seconds, she smiled.

"I hope so."

Mildred kissed her on the forehead and replaced the glass on the table, sitting back down and taking a carton of juice with her.

"What's an adagio?" Mildred asked as she snuggled back into her chair and sipped her drink through the bent straw.

It was late evening by now. Herbert had left a while ago, having suffered an embarrassing defeat of four-to-one in his and Mildred's Scrabble marathon. Constance had been attended to again earlier, and both were now comfortably winding down from the day. The sun had long-since set, the lights had dimmed and, apart from the odd noise passing along the corridor, the only sound was Constance's heartbeat and Mildred's occasional rattling of a packet of goodies from her stash in the locker. So far, Constance had refused an offered 'flying saucer' four times.

Constance cleared her throat and pressed her head into her pillows, trying to get her neck comfortable.

Mildred looked up.

Constance patted the bed.

Mildred shuffled forwards in her chair, put down her drink and obediently put her head on the bed, beginning to really appreciate this form of close communication, as entirely paradoxical as it still seemed.

Constance closed her eyes and began to speak quietly.

"An adagio is a slow dance, but faster than lento, which is a very slow tempo; the term is common in ballet … One ballet in particular …"

Mildred felt a jolt and cursed inwardly. **Ballet**. Constance's mother. And she had inadvertently reminded her again when it was obvious just how much the memory hurt. She apologised immediately.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise … It was just … With the Scrabble …"

Constance reopened her eyes and smiled gently; she was the one who had shown Mildred the word in the first place and wasn't surprised she had asked. It was a good word, after all **–** and she had needed the points at the time.

"Would you like me to tell you about it?"

Mildred nodded. Constance closed her eyes again as she began to speak.

"One of the most famous **–** and perhaps most exquisite **–** dances in ballet is the Rose Adagio from The Sleeping Beauty. And the music for the piece, by Tchaikovsky, is also one of the most exquisite in the world …" Another clearance of throat allowed Constance to continue. "My father was very tall and quite muscular, but graceful in his steps. He could have easily been mistaken for a dancer. On the last night of a nationwide tour, he told my mother that he couldn't come to see her final performance as he had to attend an emergency meeting. She was playing Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty with her ballet company and he had seen every performance so far. She was disappointed but understood, especially as he had attended all the others and travelled with her. In the ballet, not long after Aurora's entrance, is the Rose Adagio. Unbeknown to my mother, my father had been practising with my mother's ballet master for over a month, having taken some time off work without her knowledge, and he took the role of one of the princes **–** the one she dances with the most of the four during the Adagio. Despite his costume and make-up, she recognised him before he was barely out of the wings and, as you might imagine, she was absolutely astonished, for despite her status of ability she did not abuse her position and therefore had no idea of what he had planned. But she managed to continue without showing it. My father was in his element, and the entire audience had gathered something was different, but the applause was as loud as it had ever been for my mother, especially when she performed the grand finale **–** where the ballerina is turned in a full circle four times while in an arabesque position, which is where one leg is held up behind her, additionally with the same side arm held up in the air, and she must exchange hands four times with each prince without a wobble. It was her favourite role to dance, although she adored Swan Lake for the precision needed to dance the double part of Odette and Odile, and she did it to perfection. And as Father left the stage, he indicated he was going up into one of the boxes to watch and, sure enough, that's where he went. My mother carried on and the ballet continued, and all the while my father was watching from above. By the near end of the second act, my mother had shaken any thoughts of anything else due to happen, and was in her place, eyes closed and body poised in eternal sleep, awaiting her prince to wake her up with a kiss. Only it wasn't the Prince but my father once more **–** and he had danced beforehand the full sequence, where the Lilac Fairy leads the Prince to where the Sleeping Beauty is hidden in the castle behind the forest of thorns. And as she opened her eyes and realised what was happening, the music swelled and he knelt down and proposed to her, and the cast, still maintaining their characters, gathered around them. She said yes **–** not that she could really refuse in front of three thousand people. By this time, the audience were giving them a standing ovation, so the orchestra played on a short while longer as my mother and father embraced before they left the stage before the third act commenced. My mother told me that, at the end, when my father reappeared to take a small bow, the audience didn't leave the auditorium until almost twenty minutes of standing applause and curtain calls had finished. She said it was like a fairy tale come true."

Mildred sighed with a swoon-like sound. "That has to be the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

Constance opened her eyes. Mildred immediately noticed the now-familiar glaze upon them as they focused on her. She didn't hesitate to give Constance's hand a supportive squeeze, so glad to know more about her cousin and family, but still feeling a tinge of guilt that it pained Constance so.

Constance gave a small, watery smile. Unlike before, while still upset, she also had forgotten how much she loved to retell that tale; the last person to hear it had been Morgana and, before her, Gabriella. And Mildred was now a worthy recipient of her story. It reminded her of 'Caddy time' **–** Constance and Daddy; the time when her father would read to her each night, just the two together, before her mother would join them and the three would say goodnight to the moon and stars. The tale of their engagement was one Constance had insisted upon hearing repeated at least once a week since the moment she could talk, and it felt good to share it once more. It reminded her of what once was **–** and what she knew she must continue to strive for until the very end of her time.

"Memories are good things, Mildred. The bad ones prepare us for the future **–** and the good ones help us to deal with it."

Mildred smiled in return, not quite suppressing the yawn that was crawling up her throat.

"Time to close our eyes, I think."

Mildred nodded. "I was just thinking," she said, as she repositioned herself back into her chair, maintaining her grip with her right hand upon Constance's left, "is your back always so straight because of the ballet dancing?" As soon as the words left her mouth, a horrible thought suddenly struck her: what if it was because of **them**? What if it was nothing to do with her mother and they had forced her to walk and sit in that particular way **–** maybe even by striking her repeatedly until she obeyed?

Before Mildred's wild imagination could continue any further, Constance smiled again, indicating her question was far from intrusive. She waved her right hand, weakly but determinedly, and Mildred's blanket found itself creeping upwards until it was cosily wrapped over her body.

"One cannot be around a professional dancer for long and not conform to the correct posture. My mother's back was never bent, and I soon found myself doing the same. It … feels nice."

Mildred nodded in relief, realising that such a familial trait was probably, to Constance, another way of remaining close to her mother. She smiled and re-curled her fingers around Constance's with a renewed firmness that said she wasn't going anywhere and snuggled down. The room was far from cold, but the comfort of the blanket was like a layer of extra security and Mildred liked it.

Constance lay, thinking about her once-passionate love of music and how the memory of her past through Herbert's kindness had forced her to appreciate the melodies once more; melodies that she had hidden from for a long time, breaking the abstention only when she thought no one was around to hear her cries of woe as the tunes reminded her of her so-happy past that was snatched from her grasp so cruelly. To listen was a method of torture that she simply couldn't help, for it both caused pain and relieved it, helping her to bolster her ongoing fight against the inevitable. But like with the stories of her parents, she had been reminded how wonderful it felt to revel again in the blissful aspects of her past. For so long the so-called 'infernal machines' the girls used had never been anything but a nuisance; a distraction to their sense and strength of power and therefore not conducive to their education. But, beyond that, they had been an unwelcome reminder and yet an unavoidable temptation for her. But it had been wrong of her to remove them. And she regretted it now, because she now understood, beyond anything before, of just what music does for the soul, and the freedom it gives to the listener, however briefly it may last.

Constance drew her own blanket closer and sighed as she closed her damp eyes, just as Mildred began to speak again.

"I …um … I didn't tell Miss Cackle … or the girls … about what … what we are … I just told Miss Cackle how you knew things were … weren't right … But … I … um … she k-knows about … your aunts … She … knew something w-wwasn't … right and … I didn't … didn't know w-what **–**"

Constance lifted and turned her head to look at Mildred, who lifted her own head back up to view Constance fully.

"It's all right. I knew what you'd say **–** and what you wouldn't; I didn't need to advise you to be discreet when I knew I could count on you to tell Amelia what she needed to know at this stage and no more. And I thank you for your discretion. Our status must be kept within the knowledge of only select people for a time. Amelia will have worked out certain things for herself by now."

"Things?"

Constance smiled, wider this time, with what she hoped was a reassuring enough expression to mollify Mildred's curiosity, and squeezed Mildred's hand fleetingly. She knew it was a matter of time before Mildred began to separate the truth from the deliberately ambiguous, misleading and evasive revelations given to her before now, albeit for the best outcome at the time.

"Things which you shall realise soon, Mildred. For now, we both still need time to adjust."

Mildred nodded, sensing she wasn't about to be informed of them yet.

"How much longer do you think you'll sleep like this for?"

Constance sighed. "Oh, a while, I think." She closed her eyes and leaned back predictably and Mildred smiled.

"What was **in** that potion? It certainly suits its name." She laughed.

Constance gave Mildred's hand another squeeze, keeping her eyes closed and voice soft.

"Poppies, Mil … Lots of poppies."

* * *

Davina turned over in her sleep, finding her face met with Imogen's football pillow. She groaned, waking and pushing it away, knowing she was facing a hangover for the first time in a long time the following day. While it probably wasn't wise to have mixed her earlier consumed concoction with her medication, she felt decidedly more relaxed than she had since **that **night. She took a fulfilling breath, sighing as she release the air from her lungs. She had wanted to tell Imogen of Constance's good deed, for it was a good deed, even if magical help upon those unaware of it was frowned upon in the extreme. Constance had known it would make Imogen's life easier if she was no longer allergic to the yearly influx of kittens, and Davina knew Constance's actions had been from her heart. But Davina had only found out because she had suffered a choking fit one day on one of her grandmother's famous (or perhaps infamous) pickled humbugs and reached for Imogen's cup as the first thing with drinkable liquid in to hand; and within the liquid Davina had tasted the slightly bitter taint of that particular potion. She hadn't said anything; she didn't need to; it was obvious to her what it was, having brewed it herself many years ago for another member of staff. She knew who would have done it.

Davina smiled as she turned over again.

_Come back to us soon, Constance. It__'__s not the same here without you._

* * *

Mildred was sleeping heavily by now. Constance had turned slightly onto her left-hand side and had been studying her for a while.

She could hear noises outside her door from time to time: nurses talking as they moved along the corridors; porters bringing in night-time admissions and the squeaking of a trolley or wheelchair being pushed past her room; sometimes just the footsteps of the busy staff, forever on the go, especially during the twilight hours.

She glanced up at the clock. It was just coming up to midnight. The subtle lighting coupled with her medication was pushing her towards yet more slumber, as if the potion's effects weren't already enough to contend with. She turned her attention back to Mildred, feeling her little energy ebbing further away, watching her as she breathed in and out. Her mind was the opposite of her body, busily churning away, going over every little altercation they had had over the years.

Ethel's pig expedition. The Halloween fiasco. The cat-into-monkey episode, although she came to realise who had been the true perpetrator of that. The fire drill incident. The boating accident. Not to mention the various other things that had occurred be it for one reason or another.

_Was I too hard on her? _She pondered. Was she too hard on all of them? Yet Mildred was like her in so many ways **–** at least how she used to be. She knew she wasn't the most tactile person **–** generally speaking as far removed from it as possible. She knew she could be very unyielding and strict. But was she really so cold? So … icy? She'd never thought of herself as heartless or cruel. She knew the girls may argue differently, but she'd always been fair with them, never wanting to do anything more or less than bring out their best potential; explore and increase their own natural talents. But had she done more than that? Had she become … like **them**? The people she swore she'd never be like. But had she avoided it? Had her inability to aid Mildred better in the past been the fault of her upbringing? Had she sensed Mildred's power and become aggravated because she couldn't bring her to unearth it? Did that mean she **had** become them? Become this despicable creature, capable of sniffing out such internal holdings of the soul?

Constance shuddered as a surge of nausea rose in her throat. No. She **wasn**'**t** them. She didn't want more power, even for the supposed good of humankind. She already had power **–** ultimate power **–** and used it for good. She would always use it for good. Her plan wasn't to be cruel to be cruel, but be cruel to be kind. To harden her exterior and shut others out; to prevent them digging beneath the surface to protect herself … but not like they had … She knew that when so many hours and so many days are spent wishing for change **–** wishing to find happiness and for life to be happy **–** that constant wishing turns to fear … A child's arms are not strong enough to hold a parent; her arms were not strong enough to protect her mother and father **–** so would they ever be strong enough to protect anyone else, even herself? Her fear of negatively losing a positive gain became overwhelming; instead of being grateful for her gains and possessions, her fear of a relapse in circumstances resulted in a simple decision, guaranteed to prevent further agony. That decision was to close off the source of her pain **–** her heart.

_Every love_, she thought, _is a loss somewhere down the line_ …

When already broken inside, what better way to continue than to sweep up the pieces into a sharp, untouchable pile **–** one that cannot be repaired with the inevitable glue of human kindness, for what was there to stop that glue breaking with double the effect when the certainly is that a love for something will eventually result in the loss of it?

Constance curled up her arm and stroked a piece of the lace on her nightgown. Of all the times for her spell to run out, that night was the one … And now, she didn't think she cared to recast it. Gabriella was truly gone, more now than ever before. But her legacy remained.

She sighed. Her pain was deep; so deep it would never be dislodged while ever she was alive. But it could be covered by a thin veil. A veil of hope. For a long time, that hope had been her work. But now it was Mildred. Since that night, it had been Mildred …

But how much more could she take? Did Constance even have the right to ask of her what she did, knowing of the consequences? Knowing that she would eventually, inevitably, know the truth? What would the fallout be from that?

Mildred had so-innocently told her she was brave … Herbert had told her she was brave. And Amelia told her she was brave … All three had said it while she was asleep, but all three times she had heard them …

**B****rave** … The word meant the opposite of how she felt. She wasn't brave. She had accepted what must happen, but she wasn't brave.

She wasn't so many of the things she had thought she would be at the time; she had barely considered them at the time.

That night, she knew that she had to accept what would happen to her physically **–** there was no alternative. And accept it she did; she was beyond care by that stage. Above it. It was a body and it needed help; it was as simple as that. Dignity, she knew, was a luxury only applicable when possible; she told the girls often enough about maintaining their dignity at all times, but she knew that there was a line. A barrier that, once crossed, the so-important decorum of character no longer mattered, for it had gone; passed beyond the edge of reason to where there is no choice but to sink into blackness or suffer the consequences.

Constance had always been so vehemently private, especially about her body. But it wasn't down to embarrassment; it was down to self-preservation. Without lending cause to attention, it wouldn't result in awkward questions. Straightforward logic. She wasn't an insufferable prude. It made sense to cover herself up, but it wasn't because she was afraid of her body **–** only afraid of others' reactions to it. The 'cloth of her calling', as she had once said to Imogen, was something she insisted upon, but it was technically no more than a shield against the lingering echo of her past; and while her hat and cloak bolstered her own belief in her abilities, especially when in view of those who expected her to solve their problems like the powerful witch she clearly was, she knew she didn't really need to dress the 'classic witch' part to be her natural self, nor did any of the girls. But the traditional dressage served as a reminder of their heritage, and helped her **–** and them **–** to remember just what she **–** and they **–** could do.

But upon that night, that once-unnerving worry of exposure was overtaken by everything else, and she reasoned it wouldn't matter in the end. Now, however, the unexpected had happened, and she would have to deal with the outcome; deal with those who had seen her true physicality and were awaiting her return. Not that she was fearful of this specifically; she could sense those around her at the time would be united together between themselves and no one else by their mutual participation in saving her life. But the rest **–** the other outcome **–** would have to be dealt with. And soon.

She was still recovering from the shock of their reactions to her injuries. Not their fearful cries of anguish, but their determination to bring her back to them. To bring back the person who was usually the one they all turned to in a crisis.

She knew she was seen as Cackle's built-in defence system; their secret weapon; someone whom Cackle's wouldn't be Cackle's without. She wasn't naïve. She knew Amelia looked on her like a daughter; she knew Davina had her own agenda and reasoning for her behaviour; and she knew Imogen respected her because of her power as well as equally envying her for her position within the school.

She, Amelia's right-hand woman. She, the one who the entire school felt was really in charge, despite it not being true **–** she was respectfully indebted to Amelia and would always remain so. Yet it was she who could dominate and control any situation, shining through each and every problem she faced with perfect execution. She, whose voice alone brought forth instantaneous compliance; a bodiless oration of exceptional potency which could always be relied upon to cut air thick with disordered smog.

How could it be that this was the same she who spent so many waking moments wondering what it was everyone saw in her, except as a statuesque model of manifested power. Was it because of that that she couldn't let them in? Because she couldn't see past the outside herself? She was intelligent enough to realise that low self-esteem in intellectual people was usually recognised by them themselves; it didn't solve their problem of self-belief, but it explained their perfectionist streak. It explained **her **perfectionist streak, borne of wanting to be so perfect on the outside, the inside would, surely, heal itself entirely. She was ostensibly perfect to the outside eye: she was imposing yet elegant; well-groomed and entirely feminine while being thoroughly emancipated, and indeed told often enough how exceptional she was; how inspirational. But was it a good thing? Her strive to be perfect was borne from her environment. Yet her environment had been such that she shouldn't have found any admiration for their intended plans **–** but she couldn't help it. To be perfect was to be untouchable. Their principles had been committed wrongfully, yet she couldn't help but see some things from their point of view. And she despised herself for it. Perhaps her girls despised her for it … But she still wasn't them. She wasn't. She couldn't be … She couldn't live with that.

To all appearances, she was Miss Constance R. A. K. Hardbroom, deputy head of Cackle's Academy. An academic, superbly trained witch of the highest degree who lived and breathed her duties of teaching and taught as she believed best. But was that her or her shell? Was it Constance or the little girl they called Bobbie? Her shell remained because she couldn't, after all these years, take that risk of exposure again. Take that level of pain again. How could she be loved by others when she didn't know how to love herself for who she was?

And had she asked for it? Had she asked to be put upon an invisible pedestal of authority? No, she hadn't. But she liked it. Undeniably, she liked it. She loved it. Loved to feel like she had a usage of being; a purposeful existence; a reason for living. Teaching wasn't just her livelihood **–** it was her all. Her point of existence, no longer limited to preparing for a destined task. It hadn't been her plan, but as time and circumstances had pushed her towards an unexpected yet almost certain fate, she grew to need it until, one day, she finally realised she couldn't live without it.

But happiness wasn't part of the equation; she had truly forgotten what pure happiness felt like. The sensation of complete relaxation mingled with excitement and lit with a warm heartfelt glow and gleeful expectation of what tomorrow may bring was alien to her now. She'd had fleeting moments of what could be considered joy, but they were always quickly replaced with poignant resonations of the past. Bitterness, frustration, anger and all-consuming pain still swarmed through her body: bitterness at the unfairness of a path in life chosen without her consent; frustration and anger at those too weak to help themselves and whom complained about their situations when they had provoked their own circumstances; and pain **–** pain so excruciating she didn't know how, looking back, she had got through it day after day, week after week, year after year. But she had. And now she lived. Lived for her work; committed herself purposefully to the best of her abilities, dealing with her young charges during in the day and, at night, with her evening helper of Wide Awake Potion, she prepared for every eventuality that could possibly come from her born status **–** and its consequence.

She had resolved long ago that, in the end, what would be would be. But at least she had done her best.

She had thought herself ready; ready in every way for when that time came. And when it did, even though it wasn't in the manner she expected, she still made sure she was ready to succeed, and succeed in more than one way. Even if she died trying.

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes, her lids pulled solidly against her face, as if gently but firmly stuck. She had tried **–** and succeeded. She wouldn't know for a while how well, or for how long, but she knew help was at hand, and she knew that the help around her would be paramount in the future. Not for her, but them. And Mildred. **Her **Mildred now. She was **hers**. That troublesome pupil of many a year sleeping beside her was **hers**. And by her she had to stand. Not out of duty. Not out of a sense of family. Not because it was the only way forward. Not because they needed each other or the fact every being in existence needed them. She had to stand by her because of a reason so choking it stuck in her throat like a rock.

Mildred chose this moment to clutch Constance's hand, mumbling to herself, as she seemed to do somewhat frequently. But the words penetrated Constance at her core, reminding her of what she would have to go through again after so many years avoiding precisely the feeling she was suffering right now.

Immediately Constance's heart rhythm spiked and began to palpitate. She had to keep her eyes closed. To open them would mean facing reality. Facing Mildred, whom she felt sure was still asleep but was too afraid to check. It would mean facing the truth of her past, present and future before she was fully prepared to deal with it.

Constance suddenly couldn't breathe. Her lungs fought against her every endeavour and with them her mind heaved her deeper and deeper into a peaceful pit of blackness. Smells of detergent and Mildred's snacks seemed to have mingled together to form one cloying, clinical, sickly mash, increased with overpowering heat that seemed to wash over her entire body.

This had happened many times before, but she hadn't been alone. Mildred had been awake, and with her an accompanying din of people. And the last time it was this bad, she had fallen into that black pit beyond help, aware of only one sense before her descent: touch. **His **touch, at first upon her wrist and shoulder and then all of a sudden wrapped unremittingly around her shaking frame. And she hadn't been able to fight any longer. With barely a registered thought about her past values and insistent behaviour once upon a time, she had collapsed trustingly into Herbert's arms, too faint to feel him fully catch her and cradle her to his chest as she had slipped into unconsciousness. But she had felt safe in his arms. Inexplicably safe. It felt wrong, yet right. Held by her doctor, who was also a man, she had felt safe. She couldn't explain it, and right now didn't want to try. Her mind **–** and heart **–** couldn't take it. She just knew she needed him.

But Herbert wasn't there.

Mildred lay still undisturbed, as did the buzzer wire at the side of her bed. Asking for help wasn't an option. Neither Mildred nor the staff could snap her out of this.

This time, she had only herself **–** and her sanity **–** to cling to.

She forced herself to breathe slowly, knowing the slightest hint of further stress to the monitor's continuous recordings would signal the alarm. She kept her eyes shut tight, trying to detract from her thoughts, but it was to no avail. She found herself thinking back to when she last felt safe …

Once the knowledge of her heritage had been revealed to her, her feeling of total safety was never again absolute. But she had managed to maintain a level of where, occasionally, she could sleep peacefully, feeling that she was always prepared. But there were two occasions she wasn't, and both had led to unexpected consequences …

Hecketty had played her part well upon that first meeting, as had she. The disappointed tutor and wasted student, instead of long-lost and now-found aunt and niece. Constance had feared the breakage of the enchantment since the day she left them, and always was she fretfully expectant of seeing her likely still-working aunt somewhere **–** at a conference perhaps, or at a Guild or Federation meeting; she had usually managed to make an excuse not to attend the few events a year on the educational calendar, but sometimes it was inevitable. She knew, however, she could remain concealed until needed, and could always disappear at a crucial moment if it came to it, provided she was not seen by the opposing party. She had stayed thankfully hidden, even during her obliged _Standards! Standards! Standards! _speech she had been virtually forced to perform, until she was found … Constance had known in that moment it wouldn't end there, and was proved right. The first attempt of control was scuppered by Constance's ability to see beyond outward appearances **–** but it was an unexplainable ability for which the only way through was a threat of self-removal, and the hope of a resulting rejection of a manipulative plan she knew to have been engineered by her pursuer, and proposed to them by a naïve man who was convinced it was all for the greater good of the school.

If Constance was gone, so would be the impending instigation of her aunt in the new Cackle's as its head. But gone, too, would be her home. But she could not place them at the mercy of her aunt, nor put them at risk by remaining there.

It was Constance Hecketty was after. She knew that if she went, the bid by the hidden party for future control of the school would also disappear. And her ploy worked. With a lot of effort and help, Cackle's and its staff were safe and, for a time, she felt safe with them. Her dutiful, shielding presence continued to those she loved, but always her actions, and personal self, were kept beneath their radar of knowledge, both for their safety **–** and hers. She had hoped that was the end of it, but Constance knew, deep down, there was more to come. The second attempt of her aunt, and undoubtedly her twin sister, she did not see coming until it was too late. By way of obtuse pawns, a new and deadly game had started. But while too late for her, it was not for her beloved colleagues, pupils and young charge. She did what she had to do to protect them all **–** the same way she had always protected them.

But what of the future? Time would not stop for her **–** nor the ones who had tried to take her very essence of being. Time's acceleration had already begun upon her, and now, unexpectedly, she had to make another plan **–** one that could not fail and one she would have to maintain for as long as there was breath in her body **–** and beyond. She had known from the very start it was them **–** and what they wanted. But they didn't know everything she knew. They didn't know what Mildred was yet … Mildred would still be safe. Safe from **him** **–** and **them**. For everything she had done **–** her choices and actions **–** she prayed had been right. The consequences of any mistakes were unthinkable. But she had done everything right. She was sure she had …

Constance swallowed the lump in her throat, hard. She **hoped **she had.

Suddenly, there it was again. Constance jumped internally as that strong vice-like grip tightened around her icy fingers. More words emerged. More feelings. And increased realisation of what now was the case. Mildred loved her. And she knew, undisputedly, it was returned. And it hurt. It hurt so much the agony was a million times that of the Dagger. And now she was afraid. She wanted to close her mind, but her persistent thoughts had seeped so fully into her consciousness she could not prevent the inevitable, and thus soundless tears were rolling freely and at speed down her cheeks. She heaved a sharp breath and clutched her right hand across her mouth, curling and biting her index finger to stifle her leaking sobs, the unbearable aching within her chest crushing her heart like it hadn't for so many years.

Eventually, after a few minutes, she broke her stride and managed to calm herself before the monitor alerted the staff, who would be due in very soon, anyway. But not yet, she hoped. Not yet.

Throughout, her eyes remained closed, and she, still so internally distraught, didn't sense the two tear-filled eyes gazing at her as she silently cried herself to sleep, her left hand never moving from the comforting fingers enclosing it.

* * *

Herbert yawned for the third time, wondering if he ought to call it a night. Even when technically off work he still found himself unable to get away from his call of duty. But his eyes had read the same line in front of him several times and he still hadn't taken it in. Time for a break. He sighed and closed the file, marking his place with a bookmark in the shape of a scalpel and placing the bundle on his bedside table. He often caught up on his notes in bed; it was far better for his spine to be eased against his special orthopaedic pillows than hunched over a desk in his opinion. It had been another long day and it felt like it, too. He hoped Amelia was resting well back at the castle. The nurses were ready and waiting to page him if there were any problems with Constance and, thus far, he hadn't been disturbed. But he was still unsettled. Overall they had had a good day with her, despite the fact she had slept for most of it. But it had been improved sleep, by the looks of things. Or else the medication had allowed her more control of her reactions to the dreams. He slouched down and rolled over onto his stomach, putting his head against the pillows and groaning.

How was he suppose to move forwards from this point without making his feelings too obvious when he knew he was supposed to be part of her future? He didn't want to frighten her, and perhaps she had far more on her mind right now than his place in all this. But what if she didn't? What if she was thinking the same thing but couldn't bring herself to admit it to him? Should he wait for her to make a move? **–** or should he try and initiate a conversation between them about their connection?

Herbert snorted to himself. Did they **have** a connection? Or was it merely wishful thinking on his part.

_No, _he thought. _There was __**–**__ there is __**–**__ something there. There has to be; it's fated. She said it was fated … and she was always right …_

He rolled back over and swung his legs out of bed, standing up and fetching a small photo album from his bookcase. He sat back down and began to flick through the pictures, coming to one of a pretty child sitting upon a white stallion and smiling beneath the beaming sun on a white-sanded beach. He ran his fingers down the page.

"I miss you, Evie …"

* * *

Mildred opened her eyes and looked at the clock. It was gone two in the morning. She stood up very softly from her chair and went into the bathroom, closing the door quietly.

She wasn't technically supposed to use the patient's bathroom but had been assured by Herbert that it was cleaned so regularly it would be all right. She suspected he was more concerned about her leaving Constance more than necessary; as it was, she only ever left for her morning shower and breakfast before she was back, and during that time Constance was being looked after by the staff. She emerged a few minutes later and quietly neared the bed.

She gazed at Constance. She was very still, her breathing almost silent. Mildred looked closer: her lips were very dry-looking again. She went back into the bathroom and silently rummaged in Constance's bag, removing the lip salve, before returning to the bedside. Very tenderly, she layered the balm on Constance's pink lips. Constance never stirred. Mildred smiled to herself: maybe it would take a prince's kiss to wake her; one with a bit of oomph!

She replaced the lid and pocketed the small tube, sitting back down and leaning over onto the bed, resting her chin on her left arm and taking Constance's hand without evening thinking about it.

She had not remained awake for long when she last awoke, but long enough to witness Constance's suppressed distress. She could only imagine what it was that had put her in such turmoil once again. Perhaps the competition and the trauma she'd been through? Her aunts? Memories about her parents?

Mildred gently entwined Constance's fingers in hers, staring at her features yet again.

_She still looks so ill_, she thought. _Her eyes are so dark, despite how much she's sleeping. Her skin is never anything but chalk white. Her hair emphasises her lack of weight and she's never been this thin in the all the time I've known her. I don__'__t even know if she knows what we did … Does she know how hard I thumped on her heart? Did she hear me pleading with her to wake up? Would she have told me all of this if Agatha had not attacked? Will she tell me the rest of it? She doesn__'__t know I__'__ve seen the scars on her back and legs as well as her arms and chest. Not just scars … She's been burnt … What else did they do to her? Why were they so fucking cruel! It explains why she practically lives on the WAP! I wonder how many more nightmares she__'__s had to suffer alone? There is more, I know there is. She said Nanny said not to tell me yet, so she must have had a separate letter. Do we tell Miss Cackle? Do I tell Maud, Enid and Ethel? Ethel … She__'__s my cousin in name if not blood. And Sybil. And their sisters. And Etheliana was my great-aunt. Etheliana __…__ The witch Herbert__'__s friend tried to save __…__ It __**has**__ to be the same person __…__ Is that how they all died? Stabbed on their birthdays? Is that why she wouldn't tell me? How is Ethel going to react? Does she know already? Will I be allowed to tell them? If not, why not? How could I have had all this power for so long and never realised? What did Nanny mean about 'unprecedented'? Unprecedented is something that's never happened before … I don__'__t think Maud and Enid twigged that I was conjuring the spells myself. I let them think the book was doing it. Will they understand? Will __**I**__ ever understand? And why the big panic over protecting the book? She checked __**again**__ today that it was safe at Herbert__'__s. Will she ever tell me the whole truth __**–**__ everything she knows? She wouldn__'__t answer when I asked her to promise not to leave me. She__'__s hiding something. I can tell by the way she looks away or closes her eyes to stop her crying. Does she love me? I know I love her. I don__'__t care what__'__s happened between us in the past. She would have only ever done things to help me. I know that now. She__'__s only ever done things to help any of us. I … couldn__'__t bear to lose her now …_

Mildred sniffed and continued to watch Constance sleep, more questions running through her thoughts at speed until she, in turn, eventually closed her eyes, her head sliding down onto the bed, but hand never losing its grip on Constance's.

Throughout the rest of the night, the room would be subject to several comings and goings as the night staff came in to check on Constance, each time shaking their heads and smiling at the young girl still loyally beside her teacher. The pair would continue to sleep soundly, unaware of their presence as they changed a drip or checked Constance's blood pressure or re-covered Mildred from time to time with the blanket.

Each time they left, be it separately or simultaneously, they wondered about the extraordinary lives of their patient and her pupil, never coming even remotely close to the truth.


End file.
